Marcus’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Don’t make me do this.”
“Too late,” Kit snapped and lunged.
The two collided with bone-cracking force. The gun went off again, deafening, a flash of light that lit the garden in stark white for a split second.
The bullet tore into the wall behind them. Kit slammed Marcus hard against the bricks, the sound sharp and ugly.
“Kit!” I shouted, but they were locked in a blur of fists and grunts, too fast to separate.
Marcus drove his knee up into Kit’s stomach. Kit grunted, stumbled back, but only for a heartbeat.
He came back with an elbow to Marcus’s ribs, the impact so hard I felt it in my own chest. Marcus staggered, cursing, the gun swinging wild in his hand.
He swung it like a club, aiming for Kit’s head, but Kit ducked under, spun, and drove his knee up into Marcus’s gut. Marcus folded with a choked gasp. Kit wrenched his arm, trying to rip the gun away.
I scrambled to my feet, heart hammering so hard it drowned out everything else. There was a metallic tang of blood hung in the air. Marcus’s or Kit’s, I couldn’t tell.
My muscles screamed as I surged forward.
Marcus swung at me wildly, the butt of the gun catching my shoulder. Pain flared white-hot and I stumbled, teeth clenching.
“Stay back!” Kit shouted, but I ignored him.
Marcus raised the gun again, aiming for Kit this time.
Not happening. I lunged, grabbing Marcus’s wrist, shoving it upward. The shot fired into the air, ringing through the night like thunder.
His breath hit my face, hot and furious, and I could see the madness in his eyes. Marcus wanted me dead. He’d have killed me without hesitation.
We struggled, the gun twisting between us, his hand slick with sweat and blood. He was stronger, trained. But I was faster, desperate.
The smell of gunpowder filled my nose. My pulse pounded in my ears.
Then Kit was there. He clamped his hand over Marcus’s wrist, wrenching the weapon free with a raw, furious snarl.
Marcus tried to fight back, but Kit slammed his fist into his jaw, once, twice. Then Kit brought the butt of the gun down against the side of his head.
Marcus crumpled to the ground like a broken marionette. Silence crashed over us.
The taste of adrenaline was sharp on my tongue. The gun lay between us, gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Marcus’s body was still, chest rising shallowly.
I stared down at Marcus, and my fangs ached. His throat was right there. His pulse was faint, vulnerable. My instincts screamed at me to take it, to sink my teeth in, to feed.
Kit chose you, I reminded myself.Kit trusts you.
I forced the hunger back down, breathing through it until the trembling eased. I looked away.
“He’s still alive,” I said.
Kit didn’t answer right away. He was watching me with a look that stripped me bare. Then he nodded once and dropped the gun. “Good.”
He crouched, checked Marcus’s pulse, then fished into his jacket and pulled out a ring of keys. Without hesitation, he tossed them to me. I caught them, the metal cold in my palm.
“Come on,” Kit said, straightening. “We have to go. Now.”
He reached for me, fingers curling tight around mine, grounding me.
We ran. The night was a blur of shadows and wind. The weeds whipped at our legs as we sprinted for the front, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder and blood.
