Zerbrowski was beside me, his gun out, but not pointed at anyone, sort of ceilingward. I didn't get much chance to see Micah from a distance. I gripped his hand, and it didn't hurt anymore. He kept his teeth around my neck, his hand in my hair, but the other hand, he took slowly away.
You have to divorce yourself from your emotions, or you can't do your job. I looked at Malcolm. I don't know if that was who Primo was aiming at, or if he missed. My nails cutting through someone's body.
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