“WELL, THIS IS NOT A good sign.” Wen lowered his weapon and held it pointed at the floor as he stared around.
Mich surveyed the disaster zone that was Yetti’s room. Two tables and a battered red sofa had been upended, and several chairs were slashed open, the stuffing scattered. Dirty green cupboard doors in the eating area hung open from twisted hinges.
“Clear the room,” Mich told him.
He went left. She headed toward the back, where a bench counter hid the floor of the kitchen from view. Wen reappeared from the back room. “Bedroom’s clear.” Mich nodded and walked around the bench. A swathe of black and wide eyes was all she saw before she was hit in the chest.
She fired her g*n instinctively, falling backward at the blow. The breath was knocked out of her as she landed hard, cracking
