Katherine was good at noting the passage of time. She’d been trained to know how many minutes or hours or even seconds passed in any given space of moments. She could tell that they’d been moving roughly half an hour when Byron slowed – and then dropped to his knees. Kat was instantly kneeling beside him. “Byron,” she said, trying to get a better look at him. “What is it?” she asked as she scooted on her knees until she was in front of him. Now she could see the blood that coated his right side; it had been hidden from her. “He hit you,” she said softly, speaking more to herself than to him. I knew it. She’d known deep down that she hadn’t been able to get to Sanchez in time. Byron had been so close; it was stupid to think a trained Hunter would miss at that range, despite her efforts. “What do you need?” she asked quickly. His entire right side was drenched in precious red liquid. His face was pale; she could see that now in the moonlight.
