What...?
He tried to turn, to face his attacker, but his body refused to obey. His legs buckled as strength drained from his limbs. The taste of copper filled his mouth as blood bubbled up his throat.
The dust cleared just enough for him to see Han's face inches from his own.
No surprise marked those features.
No horror at his comrade's injury.
Only cold eyes.
"Wrong place, wrong time, old friend." Han twisted the sword embedded in Feng's back, sending fresh agony coursing through him. "The political landscape is changing. The city needs new leadership."
Understanding dawned through the haze of pain. "You're... working with it..."
"The term is alliance, Feng." Han extracted his weapon with brutal efficiency. "The monsters need a territory. I need the city lord's position. Mutually beneficial arrangement."
