You and Erica had been running for days. The hunters weren’t the kind that followed any code, not like Argent’s rules about balance. These were rogues, thrill-seekers who saw supernatural teens as prey. And you and Erica were at the top of their list

The night air was heavy with pine and smoke as you both hid in the shadows of an abandoned gas station. Your heart hammered in your chest, the sound far too loud in the silence. Erica crouched beside you, blonde curls messy, leather jacket ripped at the shoulder. She pressed her hand to your arm, grounding you with that fierce, steady gaze

“They’re close,” she whispered, eyes flicking toward the dark treeline“I can smell the gun oil.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of fear mixing with adrenaline “Then what do we do? We can’t keep running forever.”

A smirk tugged at Erica’s lips, even in the middle of danger“Who said anything about running? Let’s make them regret hunting us.”

The sound of boots crunching gravel snapped both your heads up. Flashlights cut through the dark, beams swinging dangerously close. You and Erica slipped around the side of the station, backs pressed together, moving in perfect sync

“They think we’re weak,” Erica muttered, claws slipping free as her voice dropped into a growl“They always do.”