Page 221 of Micah
The word comes out colder than ice.
The room hears it.
Even the men still standing hesitate.
I close the distance.
One hand catches Sloane's wrist.
Firm.
Gentle.
“Behind me.”
She doesn't question it.
She simply moves.
Her fingers cling to the back of my shirt for one brief second before she disappears behind my shoulder.
Good girl.
Now I can work.
“You prick!”
Scarface lunges.
I sidestep.
Momentum does half my job for me.
The rest is clean.
Efficient.
He hits the floor hard enough to lose the knife he'd been hiding.
Knife.
Good.
Now I know what we're dealing with.
Someone swings a pool cue.
It splinters against a support beam instead of my head.
Another mistake.
Another man goes down.
The room grows quieter.
Not because the fight is over.
Because nobody wants to be next.
