James leaned against the balcony railing, whiskey in hand, when the breeze shifted. His head turned sharply. Blood. The metallic tang mixed with something sweet. In two strides, he vaulted over the railing and hit the street below. Empty, save for a couple of stumbling drunks. He sprinted toward the end of the block, the scent growing thicker. Dark alley. Voices echoed, harsh, taunting. “Hold her down,” one growled, fabric tearing. A muffled cry, the sound of struggle.
“Get the hell off her,” James snarled, low and dangerous.
They spun, laughing until one pulled a gun. James moved faster, ripping his throat out. The man crumpled, clutching his throat. The other two froze, wide-eyed, then bolted like rats. James crouched beside her. Her dress was torn, blood trickling from her nose. She s
