Layla's bare feet pounded against the forest floor, her breath ragged as she ran. Her golden hair whipped behind her like a banner of defiance, but she was tiring. Three days of evading capture, of hiding in the shadows, had drained her. She had no food, no water—only the raw instinct to survive.
The trees blurred around her, moonlight cutting through the branches in broken shards. She willed herself to move faster, but her body was failing. Wolfsbane still ran through her veins, slowing her, dulling her senses.
And the Hunters were closing in.
She could hear them now—heavy boots crushing fallen leaves, hushed voices speaking in clipped, professional tones. They weren't just chasing her; they were herding her, forcing her toward an unseen trap.
A low growl rumbled in her throat. She wouldn't let them take her.
Not like this.
Layla stumbled forward, pushing herself up a steep incline. If she could just make it to the other side of the ridge, she could lose them in the river below. But as she crested the hill, her foot hit a tripwire.
The snap of a rope was the only warning she got before the net lifted her off the ground.
Pain exploded through her body as she was yanked into the air, silver threads burning against her skin. She twisted and thrashed, trying to claw at the bindings, but it was no use. The net was lined with silver, its touch sapping what little strength she had left.
Below, boots crunched against the earth as the Hunters emerged from the shadows.
Gareth Blackthorn stood at the front, arms crossed over his broad chest. His dark eyes studied her with cold amusement. "Not much of a fighter, are you?"
Layla bared her teeth, her silver eyes blazing. "Go to hell."
Elena stepped up beside him, a blade twirling between her fingers. "Not very original, but I'll give you points for spirit."
Gareth sighed. "I expected more of a challenge."
He gave a lazy flick of his fingers. "Cut her down."
Two hunters moved forward, their blades slicing through the net. Layla hit the ground hard, pain jolting up her spine. She barely had time to move before a heavy boot pressed against her back, pinning her down.
The cold kiss of a silver blade pressed against her throat.
Gareth crouched beside her, his expression unreadable. "You're worth a lot of gold, wolf. If it were up to me, I'd kill you right here and now. But your Luna wants you alive."
Layla swallowed hard. Catherine.
She had hoped to escape. Hoped to outrun them.
She had failed.
Two hunters seized her arms, dragging her to her feet. Silver cuffs snapped around her wrists, their burning touch making her gasp.
Gareth smirked. "Let's see how long that fire lasts."
As they hauled her toward the waiting horses, Layla lifted her head, glaring at the moon.
The hunt was over.
But the war had just begun.