Page 174 of Ignite

But I’m going to make it mine.

The moment the siren blares, the girls take off, feet pounding against dirt. All of them scatter forward, vanishing into the dense forest.

But I wait. Watching. Calculating.

I swing my gaze left, then right?—

And I trust my gut.

I go left.

And I run.

As fast as I can. For as long as I can.

My legs scream. My lungs burn. Branches whip across my face and arms, the cold air slashing through the lace of my bodysuit.

The earth crunches beneath my boots like bones.

I keep going until I find it. My spot.

I don’t know how long I’ve been running. Minutes. Hours. Time doesn’t exist here.

But then I see it.

A massive oak tree, towering and thick with age.

We used to climb trees on hikes when I was a kid.

Dad would hoist me up and tell me to trust my grip. To hold on tight.

And I did.

So that’s what I do now.

The branches look strong enough. They have to be.

I dig my boot into the bark, gripping smaller stumps and knots, hauling myself upward.

Don’t look down.

I’m not a kid anymore.

And heights scare the shit out of me.

But so does death.

And that’s what I’m hiding from.

He’s not the Hunter of Inferno.

He’s the Master of Hell.

I climb until my arms scream and my legs shake. Then I find a branch wide enough to hold me. One that gives me cover—thick leaves, twisted limbs. Something to disappear into.

I wedge my back against the trunk, stretch my legs along the branch, and reach for every leafy twig I can, snapping them off and draping them around me like armor.

They’ve got drones. Cameras. I know that.

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