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She only wished she could disappear too. Glancing behind her, she gauged the oncoming danger. The largest of the soldiers, the one in the lead, abruptly halted the others with a sharp upward slash of his black-gloved hand as he peered in her direction.
Oh, no.
He’d spotted her.
Although she couldn’t see his face beneath the black head covering and smudges of grease meant to further camouflage him in the dark, she felt the clash of his gaze as it slammed into hers across the distance. The force of that connection pushed her back on her heels. It zinged through her veins like a lick of lightning, making the fine hairs on her arms and at her nape stand on end.
He wasn’t human. Not Atlantean, either.
Breed. The longtime enemy of her people. The blood-drinking, lethal offspring of the savage otherworlders who nearly succeeded in wiping out all of Atlantis many millennia ago.
That unerring stare locked on to her, the immense warrior broke away from the rest of his group and started for her through the bracken.
Phaedra started running.
Without her amulet to fly her home, she had no other choice but to flee and pray she might be faster than the heavily armed soldier at her heels.
His boots crunched in the cinders and dead foliage on the ground behind her. Brittle branches snapped like gunfire as he crashed through them.
He was going to catch her; she had no doubt about that. What he meant to do with her once he had, she didn’t want to guess.
She ran harder, drawing on all the preternatural speed she could muster.
And still he kept coming. The chase pushed them deeper into the wasteland, the rest of the warrior’s companions far behind them now.
“Stop,” he called out to her, his deep voice tight with urgency.
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