The two hitmen had run about half of the distance from the cult to the riverside before pausing to catch their breaths.
Dean wiped his forehead and nodded at Ein's thigh. "How's your leg?"
"Fine." Ein brushed it off, not in the mood for anything. There was an unpleasant buzz, nothing concerning. It was just sore.
They continued at a slower pace, but Dean halted after a few steps, his fingers grazed his gun.
"Hear that?"
Ein furrowed his brow, listening in. There was an unusual rustling in the tall shrubs about twenty meters away. Whatever was in there was too big to be a rabbit but too small to be Bigfoot.
Wouldn't have been concerning if the bush hadn't been shaking like it had a vendetta.
A faint curse came from within. The next thing they knew, a figure crawled out. He was a mess of dirt-streaked clothes and wild brown hair, looking like he'd escaped a horror movie.
Dean scoffed, straightening. "A homeless guy?"
Ein huffed a sigh of relief, already moving.
