THE HUNTERS STRIKE The silence in the tent had become a living thing. It sat between us like a physical wall, thick and suffocating.Since the moment Demetrius had shouted at me to get out, we hadn't spoken a single word. He moved through the space as if I were a ghost, and I did my best to be invisible. I stayed in my corner, my back against the canvas, watching him from the shadows. He looked pale, still recovering from the heart-stop, but his face was set in a mask of stone.He’s killing himself to prove he doesn't need me, I thought, clutching my knees to my chest. He’d rather drop dead again than admit he felt something.The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long, bloody streaks across the tent floor. Demetrius was sitting at his small desk, his fingers tight around a quill. He hadn't written a word in an hour."The lamps need oil," I said softly, my voice cracking from disuse.He didn't look up. "Then fix them.""I was just trying to help.""I told you," he said, his
Last Updated : 2026-02-20 Read more