FAO
I hit the first one before he could draw his weapon.
My jaws closed around his arm — the arm reaching for the gun at his hip — and I bit down. Bone crunched. He screamed. I shook him once, twice, then threw him aside like a broken toy.
The second one was faster. Smarter. He already had his gun out, already aiming—
I was faster.
I lunged low, beneath his line of fire, and my teeth found his thigh. The femoral artery. I knew exactly where it was, exactly how much pressure to apply. He went down screaming, the gun clattering uselessly across the floor, blood pumping out in rhythmic spurts.
Two heartbeats. Maybe three. That's all it took.
Then I turned to face the real threat.
Trevor had Elowen.
His arm was around her throat, a knife pressed to her ribs. He was backing toward the
