A blade suddenly struck my outer thigh, and my stride faltered as white-hot pain screamed up my leg.
This is bad. So bad.
Gritting my teeth, I kept moving. Kept pushing, my thigh throbbing with every panic-stricken step, terror moving time at breakneck speed.
Unless I did something, I was going to die.
Come on, dammit. Think.
I scanned the garden, searching forsomething.My eyes settled on a row of squash plants in Stefano’s direction. The kernel of heat in my chest pulsed, and I ran straight for them, not knowing what they would do for me, but knowing they were my only choice.
Instinct shouted. I zigzagged just as another blade sailed past my ear.
Then the squash plant’s thick vines came into view, and I knew why I’d come this way—why that warmth had signaled to me.
Please hold.
I didn’t slow until the last second. As I reached those vines, I came to a hard stop, my injured leg nearly buckling as my feet grasped for purchase. In one smooth motion, I snatched a vine and spun out to the side. My closest pursuer didn’t stop in time. The taut vine caught him at the knees, and he sailed forward, landing flat on his face.
His friend bearing down on me, I launched into a run toward Stefano, who was now fighting only one mercenary. I stole a glance behind me and watched in horror as my hunter palmed a dagger.
I whipped around just in time to vault over a massive lump splayed on the ground. As soon as I landed, the thing moved with a high-pitched battle cry.
The looter boy.
I slid to a stop as the boy lurched up from where he hid in the produce, jabbing his blade into the mercenary’s leg. The manfell, but recovered way too quickly. His heavy hand flung the boy into the ground, where he didn’t move.
With a cry, I threw myself at the man. Swinging with wild desperation, I stabbed him in the arm, anchoring my knife there, my other hand wrapping around his neck as he tried to dislodge me. Then he lurched up, and I didn’t realize his intent until it was too late. Until he’d already thrown his weight back, and I landed on the hard, unforgiving ground, my head knocking back, his full weight crushing me.
Air fled my lungs.
I couldn’t breathe, even when that suffocating weight rolled off.
A haze filtered over my vision as I stared up at the gray skies, unable to move. Gray skies I was supposed to fix but never would, because this man was about to end my life. He lifted his blade above my head, and I closed my eyes.
As if screaming in outrage, the warmth within my ribcage violently flared, lifting my shoulders from the ground with a jolt.
My lungs filled. And I moved.
Rolling to the side, I dodged the lethal blow, taking us both by surprise.
My attacker’s momentum carried him into the ground, and I sent mine directly at him. Wrapping my hand around his face, I ground my fingers into his eyes as I reclaimed my dagger from his arm. He grunted, tearing my fingers away, and I jabbed my blade deep into his shoulder, cutting through muscle.
His back arched, and he blindly waved his dagger behind him. I ducked beneath it and pulled my blade free just before he stumbled to his feet. We circled each other, both of us panting, blood seeping from wounds.
Kill or be killed. Kill or be killed.
He lunged. I spun. He swung out with a fist, and I ducked, sending my dagger up toward his neck. He blocked it, but aslap from his open palm sent me staggering back. Metallic blood filled my mouth.
The warmth pulsed again.
I feinted with a clumsy swing, which he easily blocked, then sent my foot into the knee of his injured leg. His knee buckled. I followed with a flawless jab. Made contact with his nose just as his blade nicked my forearm. My dagger responded, hitting his shoulder a second time, slicing toward his neck.
He shouted in pain. Brought a hand to the wound. In that second, I struck again.
And again.
And again.
