Dante’s pistol clattered across the linoleum.

The two men struggled on the ground, kicking over a brass floor lamp.

Sterling reached down to grab his fallen revolver with his bleeding hand.

“Vesper, get him!” I yelled.

The mare didn’t hesitate.

She lunged forward into the narrow office space.

Her massive chest slammed into Sterling, pinning him against the wall.

She bared her teeth and clamped her jaws onto Sterling’s forearm.

He screamed in agony, the chrome revolver dropping from his fingers.

Vesper shook her head once, throwing him to the floor.

I stepped over Sterling and kicked the gun under the desk.

Meanwhile, Marco had gained the upper hand on Dante.

He had his forearm pressed against Dante’s throat.

I grabbed a heavy glass trophy from the shelf behind the desk.

But before I could strike, Vesper turned.

She reared up slightly, her front hooves striking the metal filing cabinet.

The loud crash echoed through the room.

She brought one heavy hoof down, missing Marco’s head by inches.

The sheer force of the impact cracked the concrete beneath the linoleum.

Marco scrambled backward in terror, releasing Dante.