We stepped out of the truck’s cab into the open air of the clearing, our guns already up, the night smelling entirely of raw fuel, hot grease, and the unmistakable wet copper of fresh blood. My thighs were vibrating so hard from the strain I thought the bone might snap, but I locked my joints out, forcing myself to stand square next to Elara in the high weeds.
Kane was directly in front of us, twenty yards out. He was sagging heavily against the shoulder of his one remaining shooter, his pristine shirt completely dark from the leak in his side, but that thin, superior grin was still fixed onto his jaw like he owned the entire valley.
“A predictable sequence,” Kane said. His voice was a flat, dry wheeze that barely made it over the idle of the engines. “But entirely foolish. Do you honest
