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Jessica ducked away from the two men crashing to the ground. Everything was happening too fast. She couldn’t catch her breath or hold a thought for longer than half a second to save her life. And she had to do something.
Maxwell clocked Samuel across the face again. He wasn’t looking good. His body was limp and his limbs flopped as if he were trying to move but couldn’t.
The gun. Where had the gun gone?
She turned in enough time to spy Oliver, arms out, right before he grabbed her. He wrapped his arms around her like a hug.
Her skin crawled and for a precious moment, she froze.
“You’re coming with me!” Oliver shouted.
She heard the scuffle behind her. Grunts and the sickening sound of punches hitting flesh.
These people thought nothing of murder or the lives of others. Maxwell Edward and Oliver were exactly like Daar. They would kill and steal and never stop.
Jessica roared her rage and drove her elbow back into Oliver’s ribs. He grunted but didn’t let her go, so she rammed him with the other. His body jolted, and she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck.
She brought her chin down to her chest, then with all of her strength slammed her head back.
Pain blossomed up and down her neck. Her temples throbbed. But it was Oliver howling in pain, not her. His grip relaxed, and she turned, ramming her knee up into his balls.
“You bitch! You fucking bitch!” he said in a voice three octaves too high.
Jessica dove for the gun. Samuel and Edward were grappling now.
She’d never been terribly good at shooting guns. It was just something she’d done with her brothers when she was younger, then to humor other people as part of ongoing self-defense training.
She snatched the cold, heavy piece up and turned.
Oliver was mid-lunge, his face red and blood trickling down from his nose.
She fired.
This close she couldn’t miss.
It was not lost on her this was nearly the reverse from when she’d been shot.
Oliver’s eyes bulged, and he dropped to the ground.
She’d just killed a man.
Her.
The rising panic threatened to make her freeze, and she could not. Samuel needed her now.
She whirled and stared at the two bloodied men in horror. They were trading punches like bare-knuckle boxers. Edward’s shirt was ripped. Blood stained his snowy white shirt. Samuel was no better. One eye was swelling shut, and he had a fat, bleeding lip. Both men swayed on their feet.
“Stop! Stop right now!” she shouted.
They were too close for her to get a shot on Edward.
Samuel threw his left hand out but never looked away from Edward. “Go. Get out of here!”
“I’ll kill you both with my bare hands!”
Edward lunged forward, taking advantage of Samuel’s exposed side to drive home two quick, hard punches to his ribs. Samuel grabbed the other man. She didn’t know what he intended, but Edward twisted in his grasp until both men were on the ground.
She couldn’t fire, but she couldn’t do anything.
