Page 172 of Shadowblood Souls
Movement from the direction Riva went in interrupts my thoughts. My head jerks around in time to spot three burly,leather-vested men marching toward her where she’s standing not far from the metal wall.
Riva has seen them too—I mean, they’re difficult to miss. She braces herself defensively, frowning at them as they approach.
“What are you doing here?” one of them demands. “This isn’t some playground.”
“I’m just taking a walk,” Riva replies. “What’s your problem?”
I have no idea what it might be, but apparently the men have a pretty major one, because they all launch themselves at her without another word.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t intervene. Not even when I see one of them flash a knife.
Riva can handle herself in a fight. If I dashed in, chances are I’d only get in the way and make it harder for her to defend herself.
Her limbs slash around her petite body like a whirlwind—an absolutely gorgeous one. But as her fist catches one of the attackers in the nose and her knee rams another in the gut, two more men who look like they came in a matching set with the first three hurtle right over the fence a short distance behind her.
One of the newcomers is gripping a knife… and the other has a pistol clasped in his meaty hand.
Alarm blares through my nerves. I’m leaping forward before I’ve even fully processed my panic.
She’s distracted by the first bunch—she doesn’t know the new attackers are coming. And no amount of feral strength can stop a bullet to the skull.
Even my powers wouldn’t be able to save her if that prick shoots her in a particularly vital spot.
I threw myself toward her believing I had the chance to save her before the threat even got to that point, but I’m no sprinter.I’m still ten feet away when the jerk with the gun raises it, his fingers curling around the trigger.
The other has swung toward me, brandishing his knife. Getting in my way.
But even without that obstacle, I wouldn’t make it in time.
Not with my hands and legs.
Understanding hits me in a chilly smack. It’s broad daylight—there are multiple witnesses—but I have no time for doubt.
I can protect her, so I will.
I don’t hesitate, despite the pang of anguish that sears through me. With one swift yank, I fling off my coat and whip my tentacles at our assailants.
Fourteen
Riva
The man stabs his knife at my shoulder, and I just barely manage to duck—blocking his friend’s punch at the same time. Some distant part of my mind is protesting,What the hell is going on?but my fighting instinct overrides any other consideration.
These three pricks don’t look like guardians—no armor, no helmets. They don’t seem to have any idea what they’re dealing with.
But whatever their reasons, they’re trying to hurt me. And they’re going to regret that decision.
I have my own blades in my cargo pants pockets just in case, but it’s easier working with just my body. I knock the knife from the one guy’s hand with a punch so hard the bones in his wrist crack.
He stumbles to the side with a grunt of both shock and pain. The other guy lunges at me—and does a double-take when I flash my claws at him.
I take advantage of his surprise to kick him in the gut, sending him careening through the air to sprawl several feet away.
Only then do my ears pick up the scrape of other footsteps behind me. I whirl, clocking my third attacker in the face as I pivot on my feet.
He reels backward, and I find myself staring into the barrel of a gun—just as a long, sinewy tentacle smacks into the man pointing it at me.
The gunman’s arms slam sideways. The shot goes wild, clanging into the metal fence.
