" Shea cried out but could not look away with Gregori forcing her to obey his command. Then suddenly, as Slovensky’s heart exploded violently out of his chest and he slumped forward, face down onto the floor, she was released.
Wallace made strange sounds, little mewling noises interspersed with curses. He dragged Shea to her feet, forced her with him toward the door. Her back was to him, and for a moment Shea was curiously thankful. She had never killed or injured another human being in her life. She had taken an oath to save lives. Every instinct in her was to go to Raven, see if there was anything she could do. Even to go to the stick old man and try to aid him. Killing was utterly out of her realm.
You did not kill him, Jacques said soothingly.
I was the instrument you used, she protested. As Wallace dragged her outside, the light hit her eyes, and she cried out as a thousand knives seemed to pierce her skull.
Look at this man, his hand on you, anything I can use, Jacques ordered gruffly. He could feel her horror, her reluctance.
I can’t, Jacques. I can’t think. It was true. Her mind was consumed with grotesque images of blood and death.
This time it was not Gregori who took charge. Jacques gripped her mind in a hold of steel, forcing her compliance. He was far stronger than she had ever imagined him to be, and supremely confident in his abilities, even in the morning hours. The Carpathians men were coming closer, too. Even with the burden of protecting Byron, they were moving rapidly as a group toward the cabin.
Mikhail reluctantly split off from the rest of them, Byron a dead weight in his arms, his path away from the forest and toward the cave of healing. But his concentration on his wife and child was total. He had no room for any other emotion. He kept their waning life force flickering in his mind, held them locked to him, giving them no chance to die before the healer was there to aid them. "

― Christine Feehan , Dark Desire (Dark, #2)