Her feet wouldn’t move.

Now!

A man pulled his pistol out and aimed at Gabe. With a frenzied scream, Frankie charged out of the brush and slammed her staff down onto his forearm. Bones cracked. Screeching, he dropped the gun and hunched over his arm.

The guy behind him lunged at Frankie, and her body took over. Spinning, she roundhouse-kicked him upside the temple, knocking him into another man. She drove her staff into the belly of a third.

No time to think. It was all yelling and blocking and striking, reacting instinctively with hard-won muscle memory. Lean back, pull opponent off balance and twist to throw him into another. Regain balance, spin, and leg straightens into a side kick to another man’s belly. Foot touches the dirt; weight shifts forward enabling a rear kick into the PZ behind her. Lean away from a knife and swing jo into his head. Move with the rebound to swing at another. Sway with his block and snap kick into his belly.

A firearm cracked. A PZ yelled in pain.

Shooting in this tangle of people? They could hit their own men.

Moonlight gleamed along a pistol…that was aimed at Bull.

“No!” She dove at the man. Her shoulder hit his chest, knocking him back, their fall halted by a tree. With an ear-deafening bang, the weapon fired.

Pain burned down her calf, and she yelped.

The man backhanded her to the ground. His boot caught her in the belly, knocking her sideways. On his feet, he aimed the pistol at her.

Gryff sprang from nowhere and latched onto his arm. Murderous growls filled the air as the dog shook the man’s arm as if it was a rodent.

Gasping for air, almost crying, Frankie scrambled away on hands and knees.

“Cunt!” A PZ swung a baton at her head. On her knees, she swayed sideways and slapped his arm to one side. Turning her hand over, she gripped his forearm and yanked him toward her. Then drove her knuckles into his throat. He fell.

Scrambling to her feet, she caught a kick to her ribs that sent her backpedaling until she could regain her balance. Eyes wild, the bastardo swung his knife in a move that would’ve cut her face open. Sidestepping the blade, she captured his wrist, twisted, and threw him headfirst into a tree.

Another man bent to pick up the fallen pistol. She snap-kicked him in the face, and her stomach lurched at the crunch of a bone. As he fell, she punted the handgun into the underbrush.

A knife swung at her, and she raised her arm to—

Bull grabbed the man’s wrist, broke it, and elbowed him in the face. The man landed on his back, out cold.

Turning, Frankie braced for the next PZ.

They were all down. Groaning. Whimpering. Crying. Some holding broken arms and legs. One was throwing up. A few lay too still, either out cold or…