ASHER'S POV
I don't even remember moving.
One second I'm standing at the edge of the training field, watching the recruits scramble up the steep incline toward the final checkpoint, heart beating fast and the sun baking into my neck, and the next, I'm running.
I'm not thinking, not planning, not even really seeing anything but him. Hunter. His scent. Faint and wrong and right and familiar in a way that claws at my ribs like something buried trying to surface. And he's bleeding. Limping. Cornered by that bastard recruit from Sector B—Clyde, or Craig, I don't even know anymore. Doesn't matter.
What matters is the way Hunter stumbles and lands hard on his side, dragging his body backward while the other guy shifts and snarls, and his teeth are too close—too close—and I don't thi
