“I had to or you never would’ve made it back up the road alive. I also said I thought you were dead until just a few days before. Which is a lie, so if you want to call me a liar, now’s your chance.”

I don’t, and he starts picking glass off the floor.

“Then it’s true. You’re both . . . hunters.” I wrap an arm around myself, suddenly chilled.

“He is. I . . . was.”

“So he replaced you.”

Luka doesn’t answer as he throws out a piece of glass. It hits the pavement with a musical tink.

“How do I know you’re not working together?”

“Hunters don’t work together.”

I think of what Rolan said about hunters toying with marks for years. “How do I know you’re not playing me?”

“Seriously?” Luka stops to stare at me. “Did you notice I saved your life back there?”

“He might have been shooting at you.”

Luka leans over the seat and studies me, hair hanging in his eyes. “Believe me, I’ve had many chances to kill you. Many. At close range.” His brows lift meaningfully.

“You’re an ass.”

He goes back to cleaning.

“So now what?”

“I don’t know, Audra!” He slams his hands down on the seat. “This hasn’t gone the way it was supposed to. None of it!”

“How was it supposed to go?”

He sighs and pushes out of the passenger seat, paces several steps away, kicks a piece of glass. “This was supposed to be behind us both! No more Progeny. No more hunters. A normal life. Whatever that is. That’s how it was supposed to go. But of course God, fate, whatever couldn’t let that happen.” He turns back, laces his hands together on top of his head. “So here we are. You can’t go back to Maine. I’m not trying to scare you, but anywhere you start over, they’re going to be looking for you. Now, more than ever. They won’t stop. So where we go from here . . . your guess is as good as mine.”

“Who am I protecting?”

“Audra, are you listening to me? Right now you need to worry about yourself.”

“Tell me who!”

He lifts his hands. “Progeny like you. People who help them. You didn’t tell me names! It wasn’t safe. And trust me, you didn’t want me knowing and I didn’t want to know.”

“I didn’t want you knowing because you were supposed to murder me. Then you decided to protect me? And here you are still following me around. What are you, my personal stalker?”

“Something like that,” he says, lifting his chin. He looks angry. “Yeah. Your personal stalker. That’s great.” He walks away, and for a minute I think he’s going to actually take off.