Adare and Benny ran out into the fray, firing until they reached the enemy and then going into hand-to-hand contact with punches and kicks, punctuated by blades flashing so fast, all Grace could see was the muted glint of silver through the storm.

The cougar, with a ferocious roar, leaped into the fray and snagged a Kurjan’s neck in her jaw.

Grace shoved her feet through the heavy snow, keeping to the tree line and trying to see where to shoot. Her heartbeat clamored like cymbals in her head, making her ears ring. Her breath came in shallow pants, and her legs trembled in the icy snow.

The immortals all used such speed that by the time she could aim, everyone had changed position. The falling snow pummeled the various fires, smothering flames and creating immense clouds that rolled through the storm, further hampering visibility.

She blinked snow from her eyes, crouching to make herself a smaller target.

Adare took a Cyst down to the ground, his knife striking hard and fast, pinning the enemy to the earth through the neck. His movements were quick and economic, and all the more terrifying for their violent efficiency. He began to stand, looking around, blood flowing down his arm. In that moment, she saw the warrior, the immortal Highlander, that he’d always been. Not cold and calculating, but scorching and deadly.

Grace swallowed several times, forcing herself to stay in the moment and not drift into shock.

Jacqueline, her cougar snout covered in blood, finished off the Kurjan on the ground. A Cyst leapt over a pile of smoldering rubble, slicing wildly with a wicked knife. Jacqueline turned just in time to duck a head strike, but the knife slashed down her right front leg. She growled and turned, jumping for his neck.

He blocked her, pivoting and throwing her yards across the icy driveway, smack into Adare’s back.

The impact threw Adare toward the burning sedan. He turned at the last second and pushed Jacki toward the tree line and away from the flames, right before he crashed into the molten-hot metal.

He fell into the fire, then rolled away, his coat burning. Steam rose from it as he landed on his back in the snow.

The Cyst soldier attacked immediately, knife swiping with a fury stronger than the storm around them.

Adare protected his face and neck with both arms, his boots fighting for purchase on the ice. The Cyst gouged deep wounds into Adare’s forearms and hands, slicing mercilessly, dropping a knee onto Adare’s stomach and stabbing down for his throat.