Page 60 of Between Smoke and Shadow

We sprint for the Chapter Building. Alven might break my hand with how hard he’s dragging me, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t keep up. He glances sideways at me, jaw clenched. Flashes of white surround us as the few people outside take cover in their homes. Alven tugs again, nearly pulling me off my feet.

“Come on!” he screams.

But I’m not healthy like he is. I’m struggling to keep up, slowing to the point we’re both going to get caught if he doesn’t let go. Even Alven, anelite, won’t be spared by a bloodthirsty descendant in the middle of his hunt.

If we both die, so too will this secret.

“846538,” I say. It takes everything in my lungs to force out the number, to make it audible through the rain. “Tell. Vale.”

“You can make it,” he says, his breath ragged. But he’s already released my hand, striding ahead. “C’mon, Rune. Run!”

I don’t respond and he doesn’t look back. I can only hope he heard Berg’s number, that this wasn’t all for nothing.

Alven sprints away from me and after a few paces, I realize I need a better plan. I’m never going to outrun the hunter, but maybe I can hide. I lunge for the nearest building, not allowing myself to look for him. I don’t know where he is or whether he has me in his line of vision.

Something tells me he does.

I slam against the nearest warped building, wrenching the first door I see. It’s locked. I stumble sideways, my stomach and legs cramping so hard I can barely stay upright. There are several doors along this building, and I sob as I tug on every latch. Fingers wet and shaking, slipping against the soaked metal.

Locked.

Locked.

Locked.

A woman reaches a door at the end of the building, less than fifteen feet from me. She fumbles with her key, body trembling as she unlocks the stooped door. I stumble toward her, leaning against the building. She gets it open, her wide eyes meeting mine.

“Please!” I scream, panting. “Wait!”

She drops her gaze, slipping through the door and shutting it just as I reach it. I grab for the handle, but I’m one second too slow. It’s shut, locked, and I’m on the wrong side. I smack my palm against it. Once, twice. Finally, I look up, desperately searching for a window short enough to scale.

Instead, all I find is a large mirror. It’s cracked, a jagged line cutting down the middle. On one side, there is me, staggering and drenched and sobbing. On the other,him, a hunter clad in an expensive, inexplicably dry violet suit. A twisted insignia rests on his left breast pocket. A descendant.

“Please, keep trying,” he purrs. He makes no move for me, his hands tucked into his pockets. I recognize him now, his dark skin contrasting against the vibrant purple of his mask. He was one of the first descendants I’d ever met, the one who assigned me to Saskia. Then Viana.

I keep my eyes on the mirror as he unties his mask, revealing a handsome face and pale violet eyes. They’re so faded they almost look pink, so much weaker than I expect. And yet, I know they’ll kill me. The second our eyes meet outside this mirror, I’ll stop existing.

I press my hands against the metal building as my legs tremble. I close my eyes, feeling a gutting familiarity. This was how I met Harrick, how he found me: weak and unprotected and alone. But Sorace is not Harrick. He’s never given any indication at being kind or merciful, and the fact he’s here, in the City of Mirrors…

“Look at me,” he says. His voice is alluring, almost coy in its mockery.

I squeeze my eyes as hard as I can, causing a sting of pressure behind them. A distorted sob breaks my lips, echoed by a louder one when Sorace steps closer. His feet wade through the water, splashing softly, as his body reaches mine. His chest touches theback of my head, as if to remind me I’m not only mortal, but also pathetically small.

“Shhh,” he whispers, leaning his mouth to my ear. It’s nothing like when Harrick’s breath tickled my hair this morning.

“Please. Don’t,” I say. I’m shaking so hard my words don’t sound like words at all.

Sorace’s hands touch my hips. His fingers trail lazily up my sides, brushing my ribcage, up to my armpits. He moves back down, this time sliding his hands over my chest, then stomach, stopping just below my navel. I’m trembling beneath him, my mind spinning uselessly beneath my skull. I don’t know if he’s checking for weapons or if he’s testing the curves of my body. I’m terrified he’s going to shatter my soul before he steals it.

“You smell surprisingly delicious for a worthless thing,” he says, leaning against my neck. His breath is hot and uncomfortable, and I can feel his lips on my skin.

Oh gods. No. My voice echoes through my entire body, pulsing like it’s trying to escape.Think. You have to think.

Sorace’s hands move again, back to my hips. I expect him to grab between my legs, but he spins me instead, smacking my spine against the building. He allows a bit of distance between us now, bending slightly until I can feel his breath across my face.

With my eyes still closed, I lash out. It’s a useless, uncalculated move, but I’m scrambling. Nothing I say will convince him to release me, and I refuse to make this any easier for him than it already is.

He likes watching you struggle, whispers my mind.

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