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Gabriel’s hand flew out. He locked an arm around Shamus’s ankle and wrenched hard.

“What?! Stop, stop!” Shamus fired at the professor. The bullet drove into Gabriel’s arm even as Shamus toppled.

Hunter attacked. He launched at Shamus. Knocked the bastard to the ground. But Shamus kept his grip on the gun, and now he was firing wildly.

So much for explaining the shots from my gun, huh, asshole?

Shamus was firing, and the blasts echoed in Hunter’s ears as he rolled and twisted with the bastard and then…

Then Hunter had his arms around Shamus’s head. His throat. His neck.

Shamus began slamming the gun into Hunter’s face. Using it to deliver wild blows because it wasn’t firing any longer, either.

What a waste of bullets.

“Let…go…” Shamus gasped.

No. He fucking wasn’t. Shamus heaved, and Hunter snarled as he used all of his strength to contain the reporter. This bastard—he wasn’t getting away. He was not.

It wasn’t like the movies. Breaking a neck…It wasn’t fast and easy and some immediate snap. It was…brutal. Took enormous strength.

Even as blood soaked him, rage fueled Hunter. So much rage.

Shelby will not die tonight.

But Shamus would. Shamus would die. Even if Hunter had to pop his neck in order to send the bastard to hell.

Shamus dropped the gun. His flying hands yanked a knife out of his raincoat pocket. A switchblade. He drove back, cutting Hunter’s arms with it over and over again.

Hunter released Shamus.

Shamus rolled toward him. “You⁠—”

Hunter snatched the switchblade from him. He drove it into Shamus’s throat. Wrenched it to the right. To the left. Blood poured onto him. Shamus gasped, his hands flew up to his throat…

But Hunter was already driving that knife into his chest. Over and over and⁠—

“Hunter! Damn! Stop! Stop!”

John Henry’s voice. John Henry’s flashlight falling on him.

Hunter realized…Shamus was on the ground. Face up. Hunter crouched over him. Shamus trembled and shook but didn’t fight. Not anymore.

“What is happening here?” John Henry demanded. “Tell me why you are filleting the reporter!”

Hunter tried to rise. He fell back down.

“Hell!” John Henry rushed to him. He dropped the flashlight and put an arm around Hunter. John Henry helped haul him back to his feet. “How badly are you hurt?”

So badly that he might not make it much longer. Too much blood loss. “Shelby…”

“Where is she?” John Henry asked as he glanced around. “I’ve been trying to find Gabriel. He wasn’t at home. He⁠—”

“Help,” Gabriel gasped.

“Oh, okay, found him.” John Henry’s grip tightened. “There is a massive fire at the campus admin building. Cops and firefighters are swarming there, but⁠—”

“Shelby…” Hunter took a staggering step toward the woods.