No wonder his chest felt soft and limp—it turns out he doesn't even have the energy left to be angry!!!
"Don't, even, try!" Dane spat out each word through gritted teeth, his voice strained, trying hard just to say them.
Renee Morgan stared at him with eyes sharp as knives and winter wind, took her blade off his neck, weighed it in her hand, a smile curling at her lips: "Why so tense? I used the back of the knife, just messing with you a bit."
Dane reached up to rub his neck. That momentary dull pain—it felt startlingly real...
If looks could kill, Renee Morgan would already be nothing but a pile of body parts.
Renee Morgan slipped her knife back into her waistband, took her boot off his chest, turned, and picked up the sniper rifle from the ground, settling back into position.
The comms had been quiet; most likely nothing had happened yet, otherwise Jay Monroe would've tipped her off immediately.
