Scott's eyes flew open, and the first thing he saw was the living room. The couch was still wrecked, the coffee table was lying on its side, and the walls still had those ugly cracks and gouges from his fight with Grave.
That confirmed it.
This wasn't some terrible nightmare.
"It really did happen…"
A hopeless sigh escaped him.
He was already half-sitting when a hand landed on his shoulder from behind.
Instinct was faster than thought—Scott whipped his arm back to throw the intruder off. BLAM.
The body hit the floor. Jake.
"Oof—! You got me, goo—"
Jake wheezed, then stopped as Scott's grip snapped to his throat like a stress ball.
Scott's fingers dug into warm flesh.
Jake's eyes bugged out as his voice choked into one long and painful wheeze.
"SCO— SCOTT!! DUDE PLEASE… YOU'RE—!"
He tried to scream, but the sound turned gummy as Scott squeezed harder.
Those deadly fingers crushed his Adam's apple slowly.
They were like claws trying to crack open a clam.
