“They are already here,” Justice growled. “They are my men, my people.”

Darren’s face reddened with anger. “My job is to protect New Species, not have them leave the safety of where they are to confront these crazy bastards. We almost have it contained. Call them back and order them to return to safety.”

“‘Almost’ won’t save that female.” Justice jerked his chin toward the screen showing the kitchen. He softly cursed. One of the intruders had just stepped into the kitchen.

Chapter Seven

“Kitty, kitty, kitty,” a male voice called out, as if she were a cat. He started yanking open cupboards on the other side of the kitchen.

Ellie’s entire body trembled and her hand clutched the knife hard enough for the wood handle to dig into her palm. She closed her eyes and listened as he slammed things. Suddenly something hit the counter above her. She bit back a moan of terror. Maybe he won’t think to look inside the lower cabinets, she feverishly prayed.

Her luck ran out as the cabinet door jerked open next to her. He reached inside and grabbed her left arm. A brutal grasp dragged her out of her hiding spot with one hard yank.

“Got you, you little cat bitch.”

“I’m not a cat,” she informed him in a shaky voice. “I’m as human as you are.”

He jerked her painfully to her feet and glared down at her. He appeared to be in his mid twenties, stood about five foot eight, with a stocky build. A tattoo peeked out from his T-shirt collar.

“I don’t care what you are, bitch. Now you’re dead. This is our country and you damn two-legged animals need to die.” He reached behind him to the waist of his jeans to withdraw a handgun.

Ellie saw the weapon and understood he planned to just shoot her. Pure terror flashed through her as she plunged the knife at his chest. She stared into his eyes when the blade struck him, slid through the shirt, into skin, and watched his green gaze widen with shock. He stumbled back, dragged her by the arm, and she tore her hand from the knife handle imbedded deep in his chest. Blood poured down the front of him and onto her. His arm with the gun rose as he tried to make a last-ditch effort to shoot her. Ellie grabbed his wrist with both hands and struggled to keep him from pointing it at her.

His hold on her arm tightened, caused her pain, but then it eased as he weakened. His knees gave out and he collapsed onto them to the tiled kitchen floor. A horrible moan, along with bright red blood, poured from his mouth. Ellie moaned in horrified distress as the man’s gaze locked with hers, his pain, terror and rage clearly displayed there. He lost his hold on her arm. He also released the gun, which crashed to the floor a second before he slumped backward.

Ellie stared down at him mutely. He sprawled on his back with his calves twisted under his thighs in that awkward bent position. His eyes were open wide, blood pooled on the white tile and he took a few more ragged gasps. A slight bubbling noise reached her ears. His hands jerked, twitched, and he blinked before he took his last breath. The knife handle protruded from his chest by his heart where she’d stabbed him. She swallowed the bile that rose up just as glass broke nearby. The sound had come from another room, forcing her attention from the dead guy at her feet.

Instinct took over. She dived for the gun on the floor. She grabbed it with both hands, the weapon cold and heavy, and struggled to her knees behind the island, peering over the counter at the only entries into the kitchen. The open archway to one of the living spaces and the archway to the dining area were her only escape routes. She used the island to shield her body and pointed the gun between those two openings. She planned to shoot anything that moved.

She didn’t have long to wait before someone made a noise from the dining area when they knocked over a chair. She trained the gun in that direction, made sure her body remained behind the island, and used the top of the counter to hold her hands steady in the double grip she had on the weapon. She trembled, scared, and she’d just stabbed a man to death. She pushed those facts from her mind, knowing she’d fall apart if she dwelled on it. She didn’t have time to face repercussions of what she’d had to do to survive.

The guy with the shotgun stepped into the kitchen, just waltzed inside as if he didn’t have a care in the world. That changed instantly when he saw her with the gun trained on him. His mouth opened, his eyes widened and then he reacted. He seemed to move in slow motion when he started to lower the muzzle of the shotgun toward her. His mouth compressed into a tight line of determination to shoot but Ellie pulled the trigger first. The sound deafened her when the weapon fired.

He threw himself back into the dining room and disappeared from sight. The shotgun poked around the wall and he fired it but it ended up hitting the ceiling somewhere behind Ellie. Something soft that reminded her of snow rained down over her head. She screamed in reaction and fired at the wall he hid behind, next to the arch.

She wasn’t sure if she’d hit the bastard or not but she hoped so. She realized she must not have hurt him when the shotgun barrel extended again. He blindly pointed it her way as he pulled the trigger. The cabinet near Ellie blew to pieces. She threw her body to the floor, almost right on top of the dead guy.

She slipped on thick, wet blood when she tried to push up from the tile. Her knees skated in the slick substance, she gasped, and her hands shot out from under her. She slammed down onto her stomach with a grunt. She had to roll to get away from the blood staining the floor.

She saw movement from the corner of her eye and twisted toward the motion. The guy with the shotgun rushed her, ran right at the island. She pointed the gun and fired while lying on her side. He ducked behind the other side of the counter and slammed into the cabinets with a loud crack as the thin wood took the impact of his body.