The slaver took in a sweet breath of air as that look of sheer defeat rolled over Galen. That crushed-hope expression where his shoulders drop and tears well up in his eyes. It was enough for the Slaver to get one last grin of satisfaction in before what came next.
It started with Galen nodding, his gaze falling down to his weapon as he turned it over in his hands. His left hand was trembling. Pretayus c****d an eyebrow at this. It was shaking rather violently.
"I'm going to kill you now," Galen growled, that murderous gaze lifting up to lock onto him. "I am goin' to tear your goddamn heart out."
Pretayus stood up and drew his sword. "Try. Your magic may have worked down below, but you're within paces of my medallion now. No magic-"
Galen raised his rifle and fired, the thirty-cali
