The white light from above caught his eyes.

I raised my hand, the steel tip of the tool pointing directly at his arm.

My thumb found the small release button on the side of the cylinder.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, his eyes widening as he saw the metal in my hand.

I did not speak.

I pressed the button.

A sharp hiss cut through the cold air.

A thin metal needle shot from the cylinder, burying itself deep into Derek’s forearm.

He let out a high-pitched shriek.

A blue spark flashed against his skin, and his whole body convulsed.

He released my arm instantly.

I stumbled back onto the wet, wooden planks of the dock, gasping for breath.

Derek fell to his knees, clutching his arm.

His face was pale in the harsh spotlight.

“What did you do?” he gasped, his voice trembling with pain.

“Get her!” he screamed at the guard next to him.

The guard reached for his holster.

But Vincent was already moving.

The shadow of a man broke through the blinding glare of the spotlight.