Page 114 of Property of Scar

And then my body reacts.

Everything in me locks down at once, every muscle pulling taut in instinctive refusal, like I can stop it, like I can force it back out just by denying it the space it’s already taken. My strike falters for half a second—not enough for anyone else to see, but enough for him—and I feel the shift in balance immediately, the space I just lost, the ground I just gave up.

The blade seats deeper.

Cali screams. The sound cuts through everything sharp, raw, and close enough to matter.

I don’t turn.

I can’t.

My body is still caught on that single point inside me, every instinct trying to decide whether to rip the blade out or drive forward and take his head off anyway.

She’s moving. I feel that more than I see it, the shift in the air, the sudden violence of motion coming hard from my right as she breaks formation without thinking, without hesitation, sprinting straight for me like nothing else in this room exists.

“Scar!” Her voice hits again, closer now, cracking at the edges.

She doesn’t slow down, just comes straight in, and gets hit.

A rogue slams into her from the side, catching her mid-stride and dragging her off line hard enough that her feet leave the ground for a second before she twists into it, fighting the momentum, trying to tear herself free.

She doesn’t even look at it.

Her focus stays on me.

“Get the fuck off me—” The words come out sharp, vicious, cut short as the rogue tries to haul her back, claws digging in, strength enhanced enough to matter, to slow her, to keep her just out of reach.

She fights like something feral, driving her elbow back into its ribs, once, twice, hard enough to make it buckle, but it doesn’t let go. It drags her another step, another half second further away from me, and that’s all it takes to turn her desperation into something violent.

Her blade flashes up, and she drives it back over her shoulder without looking, the strike landing blind but clean, the rogue jerking behind her as steel finds something vital. It loosens just enough, and she rips it free, then she stumbles forward and comes at me again.

I register it in pieces.

Movement.

Sound.

Her voice, somewhere too far away and too close at the same time.

“Stay with me, Scar.” The words don’t land the way they should.

Everything in me is still locked around the blade, around the intrusion, around the fact of it being there, and the rest of the world is struggling to get through that.

She finally reaches me. Hands hitting me hard, grabbing at my shoulders, my chest, trying to steady me, trying to find the damage, to do something, anything, but I’m not fully there to meet her yet.

Not fully out of it.

Not fully back.

Just… caught.

Between the blade in my side and the sound of her voice, trying to pull me back out of it.

I feel it settle there, real in a place that should be empty, and the sensation spreads outward in a way that isn’t pain, but something heavier. My focus narrows down to that single point of contact, the awareness of it consuming everything else, the fight, the room, the noise, all dropping away under the sheer fact of it.

I let the fucker in.

That lands harder than the blade.