It should have been perfect. But with steps to go, she realized the only lethal targets she knew were along the front of the body. She thought of reaching around for his jugular, but he was too far off the ground.

She couldn’t turn back. He heard her, his head whipping around. For an awful second, their eyes met. Roar’s voice burst into her mind. Strike first and fast. But where? On the leg? His back? Where?

The man pushed off the tree, falling toward her. She tried to raise her blade. She intended to do it. But he came down on her in a blur.

Aria landed on her back, the air driving out of her chest in one heave. A muffled groan burst out of her. He was on top of her. She braced for a knife in her side. For a blow across the face. She was ready, but he shuddered and then went limp.

She’d killed him.

Waves of panic blared through her at the feel of his hair strewn over her eyes, at his weight pressing down on her. It took three tries to bring air into her lungs. When she finally did, the odor of him was so foul, she choked back a rise of nausea. Warmth seeped across her stomach. She couldn’t move.

A face appeared above her. A girl. She was a wild-eyed thing, but pretty. She scrambled up the tree, slipped the horn around her neck, jumped to the ground, and ran off.

Aria pushed her shoulder back with all the strength she had. It was enough to free her arm. With another push, she rolled the man off. She wanted to shoot away from him. She couldn’t do anything except feed her starved lungs.

Another Croven came, a larger figure, suddenly there, crouching at her side. Aria groped through the dirt for her knife, hearing Roar in her mind again. Never let go of your blade.

“Steady, Aria. It’s me.”

Perry. She remembered he was wearing a cap, hiding his gold-streaked hair.

“Where are you hurt?” His hands ran over her stomach.

“It’s not me,” she said. “It’s not mine.”

Perry pulled her into his arms, cursing softly, saying he’d thought it had happened again. She didn’t know what he meant. She wanted to stay pressed close to him. She’d just killed a man. His blood was all over her, making her stomach shake. But she pulled away.

“Perry,” she said. “We have to find Roar.”

Before they were on their feet, the blast of the horn shattered the silence.

They ran through the darkened woods together, knives in hand, coming upon a body lying facedown. Aria’s knees weakened. She knew Roar’s proportions well, had spent the past days watching him, measuring him so she could dodge his strikes.

“It’s not him,” Perry said. “It’s Gage.”

Roar called softly from a distance. “Here, Perry.”