The shooter’s aim was improving. Two headshots in a row left only one Hound standing. Amber ran, crouched over, to Milo. Before she’d even unwrapped the first chain, the Hound started towards her. Amber watched him come, waiting and hoping for the next shot. She wasn’t disappointed. The bullet hit the Hound in the forehead and his knees buckled and he collapsed.

Amber freed Milo’s legs. Then his arms. She got her hands underneath him and scooped him up, grunting only a little. She stood, turned, Milo in her arms, and flinched at another gunshot. But the shooter wasn’t aiming at her. The first Hound had got to his feet and another bullet put him down again. The Hound closest to her was stirring now. They all were. Shooting these assholes in the head obviously wasn’t enough.

Amber ran, carrying Milo.

Another two gunshots gave her a head start, and then they stopped. Whoever the shooter was, they had done their part, and Amber and Milo were on their own again.

She heard an engine, watched an old farm truck trundle by. She sprinted after it until she was right in its non-existent slipstream, and jumped, landing in a crouch to steady herself. She moved forward, laid Milo down, was about to pull the tarp over them both when the night was lit up with swooping headlights.

She heard herself snarl as two Hounds broke away from the pack and closed in, side by side. One of them reached over to the other bike, his hands closing around the throttle, taking control of the machine. The other Hound stood up on the seat with all the urgency of a lazy man stretching. Both bikes closed in on the farm truck, and the Hound stepped from the seat to the headlight, and then took a long stride on to the truck bed. He stood straight, the bump and sway of the road not bothering him in the slightest, while the two bikes slowed behind him. Amber didn’t have a choice.

She launched herself at him. They tumbled off and hit the road, went rolling, her clothes ripping, but her black scales protecting her. As long as she proved herself worthy of all their attention, Milo might have a chance to get to safety. That was her plan.

They both got to their feet and she sprang at him, but the Hound ducked under her, grabbed her as she passed, and slammed her down on to the asphalt. She hit her chin and bit her tongue.

So much for her goddamn plan.

She tried to get up and a boot slammed down between her shoulder blades like a sledgehammer.