Xalbador strode toward him, pointing the transmitter. The first shock electrocuted Evan’s fingers, knocking his hand off the collar. The stinging intensified, lancing through his gums, searing his eye sockets. Evan dug deep through the pain, trying to get his brain to speak to his hands and make them obey.

He got them to clamp the gun. He could feel his mouth stretched Joker wide. His grip trembled, jogging the AK back and forth. Sweat drenched his face. Electricity crackled through his neck, a drumroll of needle points.

But he didn’t let go.

Xalbador quickened his step, rushing for Evan.

Across the ballroom the Dobermans spilled through the wreckage of the outer wall, sleek shadows coated with snow. Their heads oriented toward Evan, noses twitching, bat ears spiked.

Evan told his hands to firm the weapon. He told his arms to raise it. The tip of the AK wagged back and forth. He willed it another inch upward as Xalbador neared.

The dogs’ claws scrabbled across the wet floor.

Pain filled Evan’s head, turning the air opaque. He tried to see through the soup, tried to aim at Xalbador’s growing shape. His hands vibrated around the stock, the trigger.

Xalbador yelled, leaping for Evan.

Evan lanced bullets up his chest and tore the carotid right out of his neck. Xalbador landed in a heap at Evan’s feet, the transmitter skidding across the floor.

The circle of flame around Evan’s neck relented.

He hauled in a screeching breath, tasting oxygen for the first time in what seemed like days.

The Dobermans surged across the bodies toward Evan. For a second he considered shooting them so he could rush after René, but they were dogs and even bad dogs deserved the benefit of the doubt.

He dropped the AK, lunged for the transmitter. One of the Dobermans latched on to the cuff of his jeans, whipping his head back and forth. Evan kicked at him, twisting to grab the transmitter. The second dog landed on his chest. Evan barely had time to get an arm under the slender chin. Jaws snapped inches from his face, flecks of saliva spattering him. Even through the icy draft, he felt the heat of the dog’s breath. The first dog tore at his cuff, rattling the heel of his boot against the floor.

The fangs brushed Evan’s cheek. Holding off the jaws, he thumbed buttons on the transmitter blindly. At last he hit the red one, the shock collar unlatching from around his neck and sliding onto his chest.

Mustering what strength he could, he hurled the dog off. Snatching the open shock collar at the hinge, he wielded it like a weapon, the contact points aimed outward. The dog gathered himself and leapt. Evan jammed the collar into the dog’s open mouth and hit the shock button on the transmitter.