Karen stepped forward.
Behind her, Drogo hesitated for only a second before doing exactly what she said. He slipped behind the thick trunk of the oak tree, pressing his back against the rough bark. His pulse pounded in his neck as the ring of men tightened around them.
Their guns lifted and clicked.
One of the men laughed.
Karen didn't look at any of them. Her shoulders were relaxed, her head slightly tilted, as if she were listening to something far away.
Her eyes burned gold.
A man standing slightly to the left pulled his trigger.
The shot cracked through the forest.
Karen moved.
To Drogo, it almost looked like she had simply shifted her weight, but the bullet screamed past the space where her leg had been a heartbeat earlier and buried itself in the bark behind her.
The shooter blinked in confusion — Karen appeared behind him.
