Wesker didn't move, holding his ground as Harley rushed at him - until suddenly, with all the grace of a dancer, he pivoted on his heel, twisting to the side and one arm sweeping out to catch at the charging woman.

For a moment they appeared to be doing just that, some strange tango, as they turned together, Wesker leading Harley by the hand that clamped onto her arm. He pulled at her, spinning her until, like Barbara before her, she was trapped in his embrace. One muscular arm wrapped across her throat, the back of his hand pressed against her cheek; the other draped over the top of her head, fingers digging into her hair.

A flash of grim determination crossed his face, tightening his mouth.

Just one hard jerk. One clean snap....