Schwarz was flat on his back. There was no sign of his attacker. Klaus knelt next to him and felt for a pulse. The Hunter was still alive, but unconscious.

There was a gunshot. A man screamed in pain. That time it had come from the Hunters sent to the right. Franks was a fucking ghost. “Everyone fall back! Get the hell out of here, now!” Klaus shouted into the radio. “Go. Hurry!”

Klaus let his carbine hang from the sling while he pulled Schwarz up by the straps of his armor. Schwarz was bigger than he was, but there was a certain measure of extra strength a man could find when fear boiled his blood. He got Schwarz into a fireman’s carry and started back the way they’d come.

Most of his men were ahead of him, doing as he’d ordered. Klaus stumbled along beneath Schwarz’s weight, the weapon-mounted light banging back and forth against his chest, casting wild shadows. One of his men had lingered to cover him.

A giant figure materialized in front of him. Before Klaus could react, one massive fist slammed into the side of his face. Lights and pain exploded inside Klaus’ skull. He toppled backwards and Schwarz crashed into the floor. The other Hunter raised his weapon, but Franks was impossibly quick, and the Hunter’s hand disappeared in a red spray as a blade cleaved through his wrist. The gun and the hand that had been holding it went sailing into the darkness before Franks kicked the crippled Hunter through a wall.

Despite being disoriented from the blow, Klaus went for his carbine, only to have a massive boot slam into his chest, ribs snapped, but worse it pinned the rifle down. Klaus immediately reached for his sidearm but stopped when a cold piece of steel was pressed hard against his throat.

Two white eyes appeared in the dark. Franks had blackened his face with ash. This was not a man, it was a terrifying avenging angel, come to separate the wheat from the chaff. Klaus swallowed, and the knife blade was so sharp that the motion drew blood.

“Germans?” Franks asked nonchalantly. He was studying the Grimm Berlin patch on Klaus’ vest.

Klaus slowly, so as not to cut his own throat, nodded. He was not afraid for himself, only for his men. Schwarz was not moving. The Hunter with the severed hand was moaning. He’d need a tourniquet quickly or he would die of blood loss.

Franks switched to German. “You are not with the ones that shot Myers.”

So that was who had been wounded. “Kill me if you want, but I’d ask you to spare my men.”

“Why should I?”

He was having a very hard time breathing. Franks had broken something, and the boot and much of the weight behind it was still crushing his chest. “They’re good men, only doing their duty.”