The air in the restaurant froze.
Josie Quinn's dagger was pressed against the crew-cut man's temple. She could feel the vein throbbing beneath his skin—so alive, so filthy.
"I'll give you a chance." Josie Quinn's voice was like an ice blade scraping across glass. "There are five spots for people walking out of here alive today."
The people from the shelter all watched them warily. "You want us to kill each other?"
"You could put it that way," Josie Quinn said with a smile and a slight nod. "You only get one chance. Otherwise, we'll finish all of you ourselves."
As soon as she said that, someone bellowed, "I don't buy it! So what if they have one superpower user? There's still a woman and a child with them. If we fight, we might be able to turn the tables and kill them!"
"Turn the tables on a superpower user? Fine, you can try." A cold smirk played on Josie Quinn's lips. "Starting now, you only have three spots..."
