Blood rained down on Caedmon and Sedna as Anatole’s head exploded.
From behind a rock, Neva stepped out, holstered her g*n, and grinned. “Before you jump, keep your key. I don’t want it.”
“What about the sculpture?” Sedna narrowed her eyes.
Neva laughed. “You were certainly out of touch with the tribe business. The sculpture is a symbol of leadership only if there is competition.”
“You never beat me in a contest, Neva.”
“True. I never beat you when it comes to scuffling.”
“Martial arts.”
“Whatever.” Neva patted her g*n. “But when it comes to using guns, you’re likely to shoot your own foot.”
“Are you that bad?” Caedmon raised an eyebrow at Sedna.
“I don’t like guns,” she snapped. Then she turned to Neva. “You want me to give up the leadership without a fight?”
Neva shrugged. “I h
