She didn't even glance at me. Too focused. Too committed. Her eyes tracked Viktor's every micro-movement. Reading his tells. Predicting his strikes.
She feinted left. He bought it. She was inside his guard. Her knife drove toward his heart.
He caught her wrist. She drove her other hand toward his throat.He blocked with his forearm. They locked together. Straining. Testing strength.
She smiled. Headbutted him.
His nose crunched. Blood exploded. His grip loosened just slightly.
She ripped free. Spun. Her boot caught his knee. His leg buckled.
She was on him. Knife driving down.
Dom's rifle shot cracked. Caught her in the vest. The impact threw her back. She rolled with it. Came up throwing without breaking momentum.
Her knife spun through smoke. Perfect rotation. Perfect aim.
It buried itself in Dom's thigh. He went down cursing, rifle clattering.
“Persistent,” she noted. Already pulling another blade. How many did she have? “I'll give you credit for that.”
Marcel fired into the smoke. Three shots. Fast. Professional. Two hit body armor with sounds like hammers. The third grazed Dmitri's shoulder. He spun, went down.
Viktor used the distraction. Lunged. Knife leading. Rage incarnate.
Élodie met him mid-strike. Their blades locked. They drove each other back. Broke apart. Circled.
She attacked high. He ducked. Her knee came up. Caught his chin. Snapped his head back.
He staggered. She pressed. Kicked his wounded leg. He went down on one knee.
Her knife arced toward his exposed neck.
He rolled. Came up behind her. Drove his knife toward her kidney.
She twisted impossibly. Caught his wrist. Used his own force to flip him over her hip. He hit the ground hard.
She was on him. Knife at his throat. Knee on his chest.
“You should have stayed down,” she said.
Then I was there.
The chains had finally given. I'd pulled until my shoulders dislocated. Until blood ran warm down my arms. Until metal screamed and the anchor above me groaned and finally, finally snapped.
I'd fallen hard. Hit concrete like a bomb. Air exploding from lungs. Vision going black.
But I was free.
And Élodie's knife was at Viktor's throat.
The broken chain still attached to my wrist swung like a whip.
Metal caught her across the face. Split her cheek open. Sent her flying sideways.
She hit the ground. Rolled. Came up in a crouch. Blood running down her face. Her smile was terrible. Beautiful.
“There you are,” she said. “There's the Sebastian who could have been magnificent.”
