Chapter Seventeen: The Stalker
The first sign was the drip.
In the Hollow Haven, water was never allowed to drip — it could carry pheromones if the humidity shifted. But somewhere down one of the tunnels, I heard the slow, steady plink of it hitting stone.
The man heard it too. His hand went to the blade at his hip. "That's not the Haven's water."
The stranger's expression darkened. "She's here."
"Who?" I asked.
They didn't answer right away. Instead, they glanced toward the far tunnel, as if measuring the time it would take someone to reach us. "The Queen's personal scout. Her name's Vire. She's Hiveborn, but… altered. No guard, no unit — she works alone."
The man swore softly. "She's the one who took out the Northern cell."
I frowned. "You're saying she's stronger than the Death-guard?"
"Not stronger," the stranger said. "Worse."
The drip stopped.
A shadow slid along the wall, and a faint hum threaded into the air — too soft to be the Hive's collective call, but sharp enough to pierce the Haven's dead signal. My stomach clenched.
The man pulled me behind him, eyes fixed on the tunnel. "We need to move."
The stranger shook their head. "No. If she's breached the Haven, we can't lead her out. She'll find every other Hollow."
The hum grew louder, closer. Then a voice — low, deliberate.
"Little Queen," it said. "You've been very hard to find."