Harper
Something slammed the car broadside and we slewed across the cracked asphalt.
Through the spider-webbed glass I saw them boiling up out of the wrecks on both sides of the road. Rogues. A dozen, then more, hurling themselves at the convoy.
The lead truck skidded to a halt. Vane was out his door before our car finished rocking. "Stay in," he ordered, already gone. "Both of you. Windows up, doors locked. Do not get out."
Gregor was already out of the middle vehicle, and the two of them hit the first wave together. Vane moved the way he always moved, surgical and savage, putting down Rogues with a speed that shouldn't have been possible and was. Gregor fought heavier, wider, covering the gap between vehicles.
I grabbed the sidearm from the glovebox. Lyra found the backup piece unde
