The only problem was that the Saint Eaters weren't close to breaking at all.
They had the number, they had the weapons, they knew that it was just a matter of time before Sera and the others were so exhausted that they would just fold like puppets.
One of the Saint Eaters finally got close enough to put a shotgun against Lachlan's back. He fired.
The blast blew through flesh and muscle. Lachlan stumbled forward. He caught himself on one hand before he faceplanted into the pavement.
The massive wound began to knit back together, but it was too slow. Elias grabbed him, pressed his hand over the torn flesh, and forced it closed.
"Stay up," Elias said.
"I'm up," Lachlan said through his teeth. He turned around, grabbed the man with the shotgun, and hit him so hard his head snapped sideways and stayed there.
Sera looked at the crowd behind them, then at Zubair. "Take the back," she said. "I'll clear the front."
He nodded.
She went forward alone.
