She'd been hiding out in an abandoned hut for almost a month now, ever since she'd woken up on the island. It was a good place to get out of the rain. It was quiet. The locals didn't come here and jungle tours tended to go in the other direction. There was even a little stream nearby. It was perfect, practically paradise.

And the reason she'd stayed far, far away from it for the past few days was pretending to be asleep three feet away.

Alex froze, the collar suddenly tight around her neck. His breathing had changed, just a hitch, but it was enough. Her keen ears detected an increase in his heart rate. The sour stench of nervous sweat invaded her nostrils. He knew she was there. He couldn't see her, but he was aware. Yet his body stayed still. His muscles were relaxed, one hand tucked under his head like sleeping beauty herself.

But there was gun smell in the jacket he was resting on.

Great, just great.

She stayed perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe.

Everything about him screamed, 'handler.' Not hers, of course. Rayner would never give up her leash as long as both of them were still alive. But there was no doubt that this guy was well trained. Over the past few days she'd watched him invade her home and scour the island with methodical precision. He'd talked to the locals, hacked security footage, and cased the jungle around the town's perimeter like a bloodhound. It was obvious he'd come looking for someone, and it seemed a little impossible that, that someone wasn't her. The closest village was two hours' hike south with no one else around for miles. Add that to the whole taking over the shack thing and it wasn't hard to guess who he was gunning for.

Which is exactly what made this the stupidest plan in the history of stupid plans.

It wasn't like she had much choice. She was starving. The locals had caught onto her little nighttime raids and started locking up their supplies. The tourist camps on the other side of the island had done the same thing. They blamed it on the macaques, but monkeys didn't open doors.

What little she'd stashed in the shack was all she had left. This form was no good for hunting—not that she could anymore anyway—and fishing came with the same problem. She found some fruit here or there, but the monkeys cleared most of the trees of anything remotely edible the second it ripened.

What she had here was supposed to last her for who knew how long, and he'd already eaten some of it.

Her eyes flicked to the cans along the wall. The darkness was no problem for her. Colors faded in it, but she could still see. You got cocky Alex, she thought grudgingly.

She should've settled for an empty stomach.

Thankfully, her little deer in the headlights trick seemed to be working. His heart rate started to settle. His breathing slowed. It could be a trick. In fact, she was positive it was a trick, but she was out of options.

Alex leaned back towards the gaping darkness of the shack's doorless entrance. Slowly, she lifted one foot and settled it behind her.

He didn't move.

Another step.

Was he asleep again? No. His pulse was still too fast.

She glanced over her shoulder. The sun was about to come up and she'd be visible against that tiny bit of light. She had to go now. Almost as an afterthought, she reached forward and grabbed a jar of nuts. Might as well get some of what she came for.

The glass slipped through her fingertips and bounced against the floor with a heart stopping, thump.

The man exploded onto his feet, gun in hand. Alex struck out on instinct, catching him right in the wrist. The contact sent an instant surge of memory crackling around her skull like an echo of electricity. [Red hair flashed. His finger twitched on the bow string.] He grunted and the gun bounced off the wall without going off. Safety still on? She didn't have time to contemplate that bit of luck before a second fist connected with the side of her jaw.

[Gunfire crackled through the air. He dove behind the wall, sword in hand. Anger coursed through him like fuel. He whinged a knife into the closest man's chest and charged up the stairs. Another one met him on the next floor and went sailing down in a shatter of glass.]

Alex reeled back with a yelp, clutching the throb at the front of her skull. Was the headache hers? His? It didn't matter. He froze, face twisting with confusion. She didn't give him time to recover his senses. Her muscles contracted with a new programmed precision. A second later her knuckles cracked into the side of his skull and she bolted for the door with the solid thump of a sword into a chest and a guttural cry reverberating in her mind. Yes! Almost there!

Strong fingers clamped around her wrist just before she hit open air.

Panic detonated inside her brain, white hot sparks bursting over her vision. Her collar beeped in warning. They locked eyes during the flash, but she was no longer there. He disappeared from in front of her, the steady grip of his fingers her only anchor to the present.

[The rain pounded against the top of his hood, drenching through the mesh of his mask. He could feel her behind him, a quiet pressure leaning into the memory of every bad thing he'd ever done.

The sword in his hand dripped red.

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate her, but all he could feel was the gaping tear of guilt in his chest.

"You shouldn't be here."

She didn't miss a beat. "Neither should you."]

Alex clenched her fist.

[Kate sailed off the roof and his heart stopped.

"No, no, no."

He ran to catch her, arm stretched out too late.

But…

There she was, dangling above the Christmas lights. Alive. Terrified, but alive.

"Pull me up!"

For what? So she could die on this roof with him? He reached into his sleeve and pulled out the small blade he kept hidden there.

"Get outta here."

And he cut the line.]

Alex snatched the knife from his sleeve and twisted it in her palm, plunging the blade into his forearm. He howled, fingers loosening and swung his other hand in her direction. She hissed as the knife flipped over her knuckles and bounced off her chin.

With one good yank, she tore herself from his grip and tumbled backwards. She twisted as she fell, grunting when the ground rushed up to meet her. The spot where she'd stabbed him burned on her own arm, already half absorbed. But it would heal and she had no time.

She grit her teeth and pushed onto her feet. His boots pounded after her. This wasn't good. She wasn't fast enough. In a moment, he'd catch her and it would all be over. She dove to the side, grabbing hold of a gnarled branch and swinging herself into the tree. Hand over hand, she scrambled higher and pressed into the trunk near the top.

The branches below vibrated a few moments longer, stilling just before he went running past. She watched him circle underneath and tried to ignore the knot forming in her gut. The moment he went around to the other side of the shack, she dropped from the tree and took off.