My old team mate had always sported a malevolent glint in his eye. Hell, we all did—it was near obligatory. The years had only to sharpen Rhys's glint until it was as cold and merciless as the cutting edge of a knife. He faced me in full black, gun against my head. He did not say a word, just glared, as if fighting for the strength to fire that gun.
Seeing that I was beaten, I raised my hands in a swift capitulation, then knelt to slowly place my gun on the ground in front of me before retreating a few steps. In times such as these, the absence of my gun was akin to being without my hand. But it freed me to embrace my oozing gunshot wound, trying to close off the spout.
"Lotus," I heard Nati whisper, "no."
Do whatever you want to me, but leave the twins alone."
"Touching," Rhys said. W
