I hit the ax man on the cheek, exactly where I aimed. He twists away and goes down. I hear two thumps: his body, his weapon. He doesn’t get back up.

Liv’s eyes lock with mine, fear flashing in them.

“Roar, go!” Perry yells from uphill. Wylan and Collins are with him. A cluster of men have gathered in the hundred yards that separate us. I count them. Nine.

We’re strong fighters, each of us, but those are still a fool’s odds—and I’ve just sworn to trust Perry’s instincts. Even if it means going against mine by leaving him to this fight.

“Perry!” Liv screams.

“Olivia, run!” he yells again.

There’s only one thing to do and Liv knows it too.

We run.

Chapter 11

 11 

Liv and I sprint for a solid hour, and then we stop. She scents. I listen. And though it’s clear that we’re out of danger, we run for a half hour more.

When we finally stop for good, I bend over my knees. My shirt is heavy with sweat. My legs shake under my own weight.

“Do you think they made it?” Liv asks, out of breath. “Do you think Perry’s all right?”

He has to be, but I can’t seem to find words to tell her that.

She looks at me. “Are you all right?”

My hands are shaking, too. Almost every part of me is shaking. All I see is the man running at her with the ax.

“Roar,” she says. “Talk to me.”

Running has given me a stitch in my side. A dull ache that keeps me from uncurling my back all the way when I try to straighten up. “How could I be all right after what almost happened back there, Liv?”

She looks into the woods, and I know she’s remembering. “I didn’t see him. I didn’t know he was there.”

“Do you know how close that was? He was barely two feet away from you. What if my aim had been off? What if I’d missed?”

She shakes her head. “You never miss.”

“Olivia, that is not the point.”

“Roar . . . you’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt! I am rage. I want to go back there so I can kill him again.”

“I meant you’re bleeding,” she says. “That kind of hurt.”

“I am?” I look down at myself. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” Liv says. “There’s blood on your face.” She steps closer and runs her hands over my cheeks, her eyes drifting over me. “I don’t see anything.”

Then I feel it—a sting on my chest—and I remember the slap I took earlier. I pull the collar of my sweaty shirt away from me, trying to see the cut.