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And the air wasn’t talking.
At least the darkness was working to his advantage. If he couldn’t see her, she sure couldn’t see him.
He slid a hand under his pillow, and the knife found his fingers, the hilt a reassuring feel in his palm. He’d never cut anyone with it, but he knew how to throw.
Then he heard her breath—or maybe he felt it. Close, too close. He lifted a hand to throw.
Something hard cracked him across the side of the head—a board, a book, something. He went sprawling, and for a painful moment, he didn’t even know if he was lying faceup. Now the room was full of light: stars danced in his field of vision.
She kicked him, rolling him onto his back. “Idiot,” she said. “You think I’d come alone?”
Rolling sent the back of his head into the carpet. It hurt. A lot.
His knife was gone.
“I should shoot you right now,” she said. “But we need you.”
“Go to hell.” He could taste blood when he talked. He slid his hand against the carpet, looking for his knife, but a booted foot stomped down on his fingers.
God, how could they see him?
The gun went against his forehead. “A message,” said Calla. “Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” he ground out. He still had a free hand, but he had no idea whether her “helper” had an extra weapon.
“We’re going to keep burning houses,” she said. “Until the Guides come.”
She was nuts. “They’ll destroy you,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Tell them to come and see.”
“You’ll kill ordinary people—”
“No. Until they come, that’s on you.” She shifted the gun. “You like piercings, right?” The hard steel pressed into his bare shoulder. “How about a little bullet hole to convince you?”
Hunter whipped his free hand out to deflect again, this time rolling into the motion and trying to break her wrist.
She shrieked and dropped the gun.
He didn’t let it distract him—he kept moving and drove his fist into the leg of whoever pinned his other hand.
This time, he connected. He heard a male grunt of pain. His other hand was free. Movement filled the darkness around him, and he knew they were getting ready to retaliate.
And then Hunter found the gun.
He didn’t wait.
He pointed at motion, then pulled the trigger.
Kate Sullivan awoke to the click of a gun.
Irritated, she rolled over. She should have closed the door before going to bed. Silver was checking his weapons again. He did this several times a day.
She’d known him for seventy-two hours, and it was already making her nuts.
She glanced at the clock and called out. “You know it’s not even five in the morning.”
“I have the capacity to tell time, my dear.”
