The knife glinted beneath the dim overhead light, a grotesque centerpiece between two predators poised to kill.
Mark rose shakily to his feet, ribs aching with every breath, but his eyes were locked on Kyle.
Kyle licked his lips, blood spattered across his cheek from earlier, eyes bright and frenzied. “You’ve really been a thorn in my side, detective,” he murmured, rolling his shoulders with a predator’s grace. “I should’ve slit your throat the second I had a chance.”
Mark didn’t answer. He couldn’t waste the breath. He just stared.
They lunged at the same time.
Kyle was fast, tackling Mark hard against the kitchen counter. A crash of metal rang out as utensils scattered to the floor. Mark drove his elbow into Kyle’s ribs, once, twice—but Kyle was a brawler, a savage thing that thrive
