“Rose,” comes his gruff, rasping voice. It’s so familiar and so foreign at the same time. I can’t place it, can’t put my finger on why it sounds like someone I know. “I need you to believe me,” he says. “Everything is going to be okay.” Then he pounces. Moving faster than I can process, he brings up a fist from his side and slams it into the nose of the man who led me out from the backroom where I was waiting after the auction. A fountain of blood erupts into the air as the man groans and collapses to the floor. The bearded man swings one heel up and then drops it down in the same place he’d just punched. I hear bone crunch sickeningly as another plume of blood lashes outward. The woman behind the table stacked high with cash is reaching underneath it. I see her hike up her dress and notice a gun holster strapped around her leg. The man sees it at the same time that I do. As she slides the weapon loose and begins to raise it to point at him, he seizes the edge of the table and flips it.
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