“How strong is your bite, Athalar?” Hunt stilled. “What the fuck do you mean?” “If I … swing into you …,” Ruhn said, gasping. “Can you bite off my hand?” Shock fired through Hunt like a bullet. From the other side of Ruhn, Baxian protested, “What?” “I’d have more range,” Ruhn said, voice eerily calm. “I’m not biting off your fucking hand,” Hunt managed to say. “It’s the only way I’ll reach it. It’ll grow back.” “This is insane,” Baxian said. Ruhn nodded to Hunt. “We need you to be the Umbra Mortis. He’s a badass—he wouldn’t hesitate.” “A badass,” Hunt said, “not a cannibal.” “Desperate times,”
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