Chapter 18
He hesitated before going on the offensive, and that was the only mistake I needed in order to launch my counterattack. Whirling, I yanked a knife out through the slit in my pocket and slashed at the meaty hands reaching for my throat. Red blood arced away from my opponent’s flesh, ruby droplets glinting on the steel of my blade before turning dark as they splattered across the perfectly manicured grass.
The other shifter swore but didn’t retreat. Instead, he groped around at the small of his own back and drew forth something far more dangerous than my own throwing knives—the cold, hard weight of a g*n.
Auntie Fen was right after all, I thought with a shiver. Because my aunt had tried to hand over a highly-illegal pistol rather than the three mostly-legal knives I’d ultimatel
