She drove her knee straight up into his groin.
Agony ripped through him. He collapsed onto one knee, vomit rising in his throat, his vision swimming black at the edges.
Cho loomed over him, lips pulled into a cruel snarl. “Pathetic.” She swung for his neck—
Gemma’s blade intercepted Cho’s with a screech. “Get away from him!” she shouted, shoving Cho back with raw force.
Christian gasped for air, clawing his way upright. Every nerve screamed, but he wasn’t done. Not yet.
Cho cursed, staggering under Gemma’s sudden ferocity, but she spun and kicked Gemma hard in the ribs. The crack echoed. Gemma went down, breathless, her glow sputtering as she rolled across the cobblestones.
Christian saw red. He launched forward, knives tight in his hands.
Cho whirled just in time to catch his slash, but his fury drove her backward. They collided, grappling, blood soaking both their armor. Her knife raked his side. His blade carved into her shoulder. They crashed against the wall, fists and elbows striking as hard as revarium steel.
“I’ll kill you slow!” she hissed, slamming her forehead into his nose. Stars burst across his vision as copper flooded his mouth.
Christian’s roar tore through the alley as he drove his blade up under her guard and kissed bone. Cho gasped, eyes wide. She clawed at him, nails raking his cheek, her knife still hacking wild at his vest-covered ribs.
“Christian!” Gemma’s voice cracked through the haze.
He snarled, twisting the blade deeper. Cho choked, her body jerking against his. Her eyes met his one last time, still full of venom. Still trying to laugh.
Her grip slackened.
Christian shoved her off, both of them slick with blood. She hit the ground hard, her knife clattering from her hand.
For a heartbeat, all he could hear was his own ragged breathing and the hammering of his heart. Then Gemma was at his side, her hand hot against his back, her glow a comfort he hadn’t asked for but needed.
“You’re bleeding,” she whispered.
He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his knife still tight in his grip. “So is she.”
His chest heaved. He couldn’t stop staring at Cho, at what was left of someone who had once been his closest friend. Her mouth was still twisted in half a snarl.
Gemma’s hand closed over his wrist, steadying him, grounding him. He let her draw the blade from his grip, let her clean it on Cho’s uniform. He couldn’t make his fingers unclench on his own.
Boots thudded toward them. Christian spun, fist raised, but it was Hawk and Imara. Both were streaked with blood, and Lysa was close at their heels.
“We got ’em,” Hawk said, his chest heaving. He jerked his chin back the way they’d come. “Claude and Yosef are down. Dead.”
Imara wiped blood from her cheek. “Ahna slipped us. But she’ll circle back. I’m counting on it.”
Christian’s stomach tightened, but Hawk was already scanning past them toward the looming shadow of Gallowood House. Floodlights swept the square. Gunfire still rattled against the barricades as the Dissent pressed harder at the fortress.
Hawk spat into the dirt. “We’re wasting time bleeding in the street. We gotta get inside.”
Imara holstered her side arm. “All right. Hard and fast. Get in, grab the governor, and hold him until the people lock the streets.”
Christian swallowed the bile still clinging to his throat and forced himself to nod. “Let’s go.”
The square burned behind them—floodlights flaring, rifles barking, the thunder of Perileos rising in defiance. But they moved away from it, into shadow.
Hawk led the way, his broad frame hunched low as he cut down a narrow path running along the fortress wall. Imara ghosted at his shoulder; Lysa was close behind with her staff collapsed to half its length.
Christian stayed at Gemma’s side. He tried to mask it, but every step carried a hitch, his thigh having caught Cho’s blade. She matched her pace to his without comment. He would hate pity, so she would not give it. But stars help anyone who tried touse his limp against him.
Hawk slowed at a rusted service hatch tucked behind a bank of generators. “This is it. Leads right into the basement. They don’t usually guard it heavily. Too narrow for a squad to move through fast.”
