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He’d circled back, she thought The bastard has circled back and gone for Nadine after al

l Eve spun around, and her instinct to protect saved her life

The knife caught her on the collarbone, a long, shallow cut that stung ridiculously She blocked with her elbow, connected with his jaw, spoiled his ai her just above the wrist Her weapon spun uselessly out of her wounded hand

“You thought I was going to run” His eyes glowed sickly in the dark as he circled her “Wo to cut you to pieces I’ her back a step “I’ain, and she felt the wind froe now, aren’t I?”

“Like hell” Her kick ell ai through his lips like a popped balloon The knife clattered on stone And she was on him

He fought like what he was—a ers tore at her, his teeth snapped as they sought flesh to sink into Her wounded arled to find the point under his jaw that would immobilize him

They rolled over the crushed stone and trirunts and labored breathing His hand dug along the path for the hilt of the knife, hers clawing after it Then stars exploded in her head as he pumped his fist into her face

She was dazed for only an instant, but she knew she was dead She saw the knife, and her fate, and sucked in her breath to meet it

Later she would think it had sounded like a wolf, that howl of rage, a blood cry Morse’s weight was off of her, his body spinning away She rolled to her hands and knees, shaking her head

The knife, she thought frantically, the goddamn knife But she couldn’t find it, and crawled toward the dull gleam of her weapon

It was in her hand, poised, when her rappling like dogs in the pretty playground And one of them was Roarke

“Get away from him” She scrambled to her feet, teetered, braced “Get away froet a shot”

They rolled again, end over end Roarke’s hand gripped Morse’s, but Morse’s held the knife Through the rage, the duty, the instinct, ca fear

Weak, still losing blood, she leaned back on the padded bars of the gym, steadied her weapon hand with the other In the dappled e, hear the crack of bone on bone The knife strained, the blade angling

Then she watched it plunge, watched it quiver as it found its home in Morse’s throat