Ivan
Ezekiel puts his other hand on my throat, using his thumbs to cut off my air. I grabbed his arm, attacking the veins on his wrist. Pressing down on the tendon, I force his hand open, making him let go. He does, but the reprieve is short-lived. Before I could move, he grabbed my throat again, turning me to face my friend.
"Let him go!" Luke raised the bow in his hands, aiming it at the Wendigo. Where the hell did he get that from? And why does he look like he's been at a spa for a week? "Now!"
"Look at that," Ezekiel sneers, using me as a shield. "The big bad wolf has someone heal him, gets a toy bow, and thinks he can take me on. Go ahead, shoot. Let's see how your friend looks when he's dead."
"Do it," I growl, tilting my head slightly to the right, letting Luke know where to shoot. If he goes for the heart, he'll only succeed in killing me.
