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But four?
God…
My knife seemed utterly useless against four Masters with guns—even just paintball ones.
If I charge them, I might be able to stab one…
I shifted, ready to run.
The other three Masters behind the scary dead-eyed one raised their guns too. “You can have that one, Kyle, but we’re taking the others.”
Kyle snarled and whirled on them. “No one else fires. You can do whatever the fuck you want to the others, but I’m the only winner, do you hear me?”
I waited for a battle to break out.
The whiffs of testosterone choked me.
But whatever they saw in Kyle’s face made them lower their weapons and nod. “Fine.”
“Good boys.” Kyle blew them a kiss.
And that was my cue.
I bolted.
On silent aching feet, I threw all efforts of survival into attacking first.
“Kyle.” Two of the Masters feinted back, arching their chins in my flying direction.
Kyle spun to face me.
Metres separated us.
Too many metres.
With a surprised, far too gleeful laugh, Kyle swung up his gun and grinned. “Time for some fun, little jewel.”
I feinted to the side.
I tried to get close enough to kill him.
Bang.
The punch of the paintball shot all the air from my lungs.
A burning pain feathered from my sternum.
Choking, I reeled back.
Bang.
This time in my belly.
I doubled over.
Bang.
Pain in my shoulder.
