‘You killed them.’ He stared at Nicky’s face. Tears flowed down her red-puffed cheeks and he hung his head in shame, staring at his scuffed boots, then rubbed at his face and looked up again. The accusation in her eyes felled him more easily than any bullet. ‘It wasn’t me,’ he said softly, his own tears flowing. ‘You even killed the fucking children,’ she snarled. She stepped forward and hit him then, a heavy right uppercut that made him rock. He absorbed the punch, eyes staring down, and tried to explain but everything swirled in his brain and his thoughts were clouded, sluggish, confused. ‘You ripped them apart.’ ‘It wasn’t me!’ ‘You tore off the children’s faces, you fucking bastard, I saw it, saw it all... and you will rot in hell for what you have done ...’ Jam’s head jerked up. His eyes suddenly narrowed, and he lashed out, claw slicing through Nicky’s neck and ripping her from collarbone to breastbone with a sickening wet crunch of torn flesh and crackles of snapping tendon and gristle.
