Jackson’s hand engulfed her throat and Meriwa thrashed in his arms. She fought against his iron grip, trying not to remember how it had felt when he’d strangled her last time. How her vision had greyed and her chest had burned. If she lingered on it too long she’d panic, and all would be lost.
A terse voice, twice as loud as anything else, cut through the riotous chanting that echoed in her ears. It was a voice that quivered with latent power, deep and smokey and so crystal clear that all other noise seemed to fall to the wayside as a weak din.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Despite the sausage fingers slowly pinching her esophagus, Meriwa forced her head towards it. Towards him. Walker stood at the top of the porch steps, hands up at his sides as though he’d been forced to push his
