She tries to swing the gun back at me, but I grab her wrist and twist. She elbows me in the ribs and knees me on the inside of my thigh, but I don’t let up until the gun clatters from her hand and falls to the floor.
“Push her back!” Ivan yells. “Get away from her and I’ll shoot.”
I try, but Francia is clinging to me. She knows I’m the only thing standing between her and being shot dead.
Francia wraps her hand around my neck and spins behind me. My head is already fuzzy and her pressing on my windpipe isn’t helping.
“You can’t fight me, Cora,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m stronger than you. I’m tougher than you. I want this life more than you do.”
I claw at her arm.
Ivan moves closer, but then I feel it. A blade pressed to the side of my neck.
“She has a knife,” I gasp.
Ivan stops
