“WHERE’S YOUR MOTHER?” asked Gaar.

Trinity shook her head. Leaving her mom at the encampment had been the hardest thing that she’d ever done, but she’d had no choice. The Almightys had implanted tracking devices inside all adult Producers. It would lead the Almightys right to them. So, she’d left her mom behind to be slaughtered and eaten.

She had to focus on something else or the tears would come. She turned her head and stared at the carnage that had once been Troy. Mirra must not be very hungry because she was digging through his carcass looking for the choice parts and tossing aside the rest.

“We need to leave. The Almightys will send their Guards soon. Something like this”—Gaar pointed at the body—“will not stay a secret for very long.”

Neither would the four dead Producers inside the camp, but she wasn’t ready to talk about that either. Those deaths were her fault. If she hadn’t left or hadn’t come back, they’d all still be alive.

“Mirra, you need to go back the way we came and cover our scent. When you get to the Finishing Camp, get rid of those bodies,” he said.

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“Mirra free Nirankan and others,” said Mirra.

“Not yet.” Gaar’s voice was harsh, commanding.

The Tracker looked at him and snarled. He stood straighter and bared his teeth. Mirra slowly lowered her lips, a low growl rumbling through her chest.

“Soon.” His voice was softer now. “Little One and I need to lead the Guards in the other direction. Find us when you’re done and we’ll drop Little One off at the Finishing Camp. Then, we’ll free the Trackers. I promise.”

Mirra hissed.

“We have to keep Little One safe, right?” His black eyes gleamed. “If you bump into any Guards near the camp, kill them.”

Mirra smiled, her teeth white in her bloody face, and darted off into the brush. Trinity followed Gaar in the opposite direction.

“She’s getting harder to control,” she said. “Maybe, you should give her the serum.”

“Can’t. She needs to be strong. This journey is not going to be easy.”

All because of her. Sure, she’d helped them locate others of their kind, but other-than-that she’d been nothing but trouble. They now had a group of teenage Producers to lead through the forest and they were going to be hunted by the Almightys’ Guards, a lot of them. With five dead Producers, Benedictine, the Almighty who ran their camp, would send out all of his Guards. He wouldn’t let that much meat go to waste without someone paying for it. Her lip curled. That was all the Producers were to them, meat. The Almightys and the Guards were her enemies and she needed to remember that.