LENA POV
“Don’t f*****g move,” the man behind me barked, his grip tightening, his breath uneven against my ear, panic bleeding into every word.
And I didn’t. I didn’t even panic. Couldn’t. I had to stay focused, I had to kill him before he did.
“I’m getting out of here alive,” he shouted, louder now, dragging me with him as he turned, forcing me into the open where everyone could see, where I was suddenly the center of something I didn’t want to be part of. “No one comes near me or I kill her!”
His arm tightened.
His claw bit into my skin.
I felt it.
Registered it.
Ignored it.
Around us, the fight shifted.
Not stopped—but slowed.
Attention snapping toward us, toward me, toward the i***t who thought using me as a shield was going to save him.
A few of the witches were still fini
