The stake flew true and through. It travelled through the air, guided and powered by Willow's arm. Moorehouse had a gun, but he wasn't a fighter. A cunning a**hole, but not a fighter by any means. As such, he was unprepared when the stake sailed right at him. But instead of going through his heart like Willow had hoped, it only nicked his shoulder.
But thankfully, it was the shoulder that was connected to his gun hand, and as such, he stumbled back, and fired wildly once, the bullet flying far away from Willow.
Two, Willow counted. He fired twice so far, and this was her chance to take some cover. Willow threw herself behind one of the many crates in the warehouse and hoped that they would be strong enough to serve as protection against bullets.
“You little!" Moorehouse cried, and the c
