Rhychard reached over his shoulder and pulled one of his short swords out of the harness. The man’s eyes went wide. “I get the gun comment quite a bit, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. These aren’t your normal swords; in case you hadn’t noticed. But please, run, and let’s see how far you get.”
The burly man stared with dark eyes at both swords. Rhychard just shrugged and smiled. The man turned to his friend and gestured to the boxes, grumbling to Justin that he would suffer for their embarrassing labor. Justin paled even more, a feat Rhychard didn’t think possible.
Every time Justin went to move, Kree growled him back into place. The man was beyond frustrated, but still too scared of the massive hound in front of him to do anything about it. “What do you want? You can’t just take my things!”
“First, they are not your things. Second, we aren’t taking them. Are we, Trace?” Rhychard glanced at his friend who had his arm around Mrs. Ivy in a protective gesture.