CX

A woman old enough to be his grandmother stood on a stoop with a haggard face, aimed, and fired again. Two of the thugs had been hit—one dead, the other howling from a bullet to the leg. Asshole number three grabbed Luke's box and ran off, abandoning his bleeding cohort to whatever fate awaited him.

The woman shot one final time, the bleeding man took one to the chest, and she lowered her weapon.

Visibly shaken, far more frightened than he was, the lady offered, "Why don't you step inside for a minute. I'll make you a cup of tea."

She'd just saved his life. It was the best damn tea he'd ever drunk.

He learned her name was Margery, that all her family had died or gone missing as the occupation continued. She and several of her friends had taken refuge together in that apartment—safety in numbers—until those numbers started diminishing too. Being over sixty and a single woman in Nyoka was a death sentence... she'd begun to despair, until she found faith in herself.