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He jerks back violently with a grunt, releasing me in the process.

I drop.

My fingers slip from his arm but catch onto the vertical beam of the broken railing with one hand, my shoulder wrenching painfully as my entire weight swings beneath the platform.

For one terrible second, I hang above the safe zone with nothing beneath my feet but empty air. I throw my other hand upward and manage to catch the edge of the platform, my fingers barely curling over it, but my arms are already trembling from the strain.

Above me, the hunter staggers toward the edge, one hand clamped over the wound in his side as blood seeps between his fingers. He looks down at me, then seems to consider finishing the job.

He never gets the chance.

A rusted steel pipe suddenly snakes up behind him and hooks across his throat. His body jerks backward as someone catches him from behind, dragging him against their chest and wrenching the pipe tighter.

The hunter claws desperately at the metal. His fingers scrape uselessly against it as his breathing turns into a wet, strangled rasp. Blood continues to spill from his side and arm, soaking through his torn clothing while whatever strength he has left drains away with every desperate attempt to pry the pipe loose. All while I hang from the platform.

My arms burn and tremble as whatever strength I have left slowly drains away, leaving me with barely enough to keep myself from falling.

The hunter finally goes limp, and the pipe loosens around his throat. His body is shoved aside, collapsing against the platform with a heavy scrape. That’s when the last person I expected to see comes into view.

Leo drops the pipe and immediately crouches at the edge, reaching down for me. “Give me your hand.”

I grab onto him. My fingers close around his wrist, and he braces himself before hauling me upward with everything he has. My body aches as I drag myself over the ledge, and the moment I’m clear, we both collapse onto the platform.

For several seconds, neither of us moves. I lie there staring at the ceiling, trying to convince my lungs that they can function normally again.

Leo pushes himself upright first. His eyes immediately track toward the direction the gunshot came from, and I follow his gaze.

Marcos stands across the walkway, gun still lowered in his hand. Leo gives him a single nod, and the man returns it before turning and sprinting up the stairs toward the upper platform, where the distant sounds of fighting echo through the industrial space.

Leo looks back at me before standing and extending a hand. I stare at it for a moment, then take it.

“I thought you had no use for me anymore,” I state as he pulls me upright.

His grin stumbles into a laugh, the sound buoyant yet thinned by the fight he put up.

“Yeah,” he replies, wiping at his mouth. “But clearly you have a use for me.”

A crooked smile ghosts across my lips in response, more instinct than choice. Leo catches it and gives me a look, but I only rub at my shoulders, wincing when my fingers find one of the bruises the hunter left behind. “Fuck,” I mutter.

“Where’s Lucas?” Leo asks suddenly, although the question seems to die somewhere between us as the answer catches up with him. “Dead?”

“He got what he deserved,” is all I say, and Leo accepts it as he now glances down at his watch.

“You have five minutes left. We should probably get down there,” he says, and I nod.

Neither of us wastes time arguing. We turn and start down the remaining stairs, taking them quickly without making enough noise to announce ourselves to whatever might still be waiting below.

With every step, the thought gets harder to ignore. What if we’re the last two?

I glance over my shoulder, half expecting to see another pack of hunters pouring down the stairs or even other players, but there is fucking nothing. No contestants scrambling after us. Just an empty staircase stretching back into the gloom like the building has finally run out of people to kill.

Which is almost worse.

I also find myself wondering whether Marcos is doing for Leo what Dante promised to do for me, keeping him alive and quietly steering danger away whenever he can. The thought is almost amusing. Two hunters breaking the rules to protect two players.

Shit, Kill Feed really has gone completely off the rails.

We reach the bottom with minutes still left on the clock, and the entrance to the safe zone is only a few yards ahead. I look up instinctively, searching the walkway above for any sign of Dante, but there is still nothing.