ADINNA
Hunter’s gold eyes blaze in the moonlight, wild and dangerous, but there’s a flicker of pain threading through them. He presses a hand against his side, ignoring the warmth of his blood spreading across his fingers, and glares at the rooftop where the rogue disappeared.
I stumble forward, breath shaking in my chest. “Hunter, stop,” I rasp, gripping his arm. My hands are slick with sweat, but I refuse to let go. I wobble on my knees, legs weak from fear and adrenaline, but my fingers dig into his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“I have to go after him,” Hunter growls, voice low, vibrating with that raw, feral energy I’ve learned to recognize. His shoulders tense, trembling beneath the thin moonlight, and his entire body quivers—not from fear, but from the urge
