The lasers didn’t flicker. They were steady, cold pinpricks of crimson light that burned through the thin fabric of Nala’s shirt, pinning her against the rough brick wall of the alley. One sat directly over her heart. Another hovered at the center of her forehead. They looked like tiny, bleeding eyes watching her every move.
Nala froze. Her breath hitched in her throat, coming out in short, ragged gasps. The rain was starting to fall, a cold drizzle that turned the dust of the backstreet into slick mud, but she didn't dare move to wipe the water from her eyes.
"Don't move, little bird," a voice rasped from the shadows.
It wasn't Leo. It was a voice she hadn't heard in years deep, gravelly, and full of a familiar malice. Silas emerged from the darkness, leaning on a silver-headed cane. H
