Shadowhunt
Then Felicia's finger tightened on the trigger again.
—and Montague moved.
Not away. Toward.
He lunged left, low and fast, decades of combat training overriding everything else. The shot cracked past his ear, so close he felt the heat of it, and then he was inside her guard, one hand slamming her rifle barrel upward.
"Felicia—"
She twisted, vicious and fast, driving her knee into his ribs. Pain exploded through his chest, but he didn't let go. His other hand caught her wrist, trying to wrench the weapon away.
"Don't—"
She headbutted him.
Stars burst across his vision. His grip loosened. She ripped free, stumbling back, blood streaming from her nose where it had connected with his forehead.
For a heartbeat, they stared at each other.
Father and daughter.
Both bleeding.
