“It’s Zane,” Zane yelled back.
“Who?”
“Zane. Thane’s brother. Axel’s brother. Kris Brother. Anyone ring a bell?”
“Zane,” the flashlight went off and he appeared from the shadows.
A very thin old man without balance who appeared to be missing some teethes.
“What’s wrong with that one?” he sighted Thane’s body.
Zane dropped him on the floor, “He was shot. He’s not healing.”
“Oh and who’s this one?” the old man’s gaze shifted to me. “Your girly girly.”
“No,” Zane cut him off. “She’s my stepsister.”
“Thane is dying,” I reminded them, my voice laced with urgency.
The old man turned to him and ducked down, digging a finger through the bullet hole. He raised his head in laughter, “He’d survive. She’s so afraid. Your little one is so afraid. She thinks you’re like them—“
“Ehem,” Zane co
