She wrenches away so hard that pain shoots up Marcus' forearm, but the snarl that escapes his lips is more fury than agony: "Shit!" Idiot, he curses himself. He should have closed the window. Blocked it off somehow. He dives for her, trying to grab her around the waist and wrestle her down, hissing in her ear:

"His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness — leave her!"