He could have dodged it.
But he didn’t.
And he doesn’t avoid the next kick that throws him back, his boots skidding too close to me.
Dread sinks my heart to my worming gut.
Rust is using Samick’s protection of me against him. Samick won’t dodge his kicks, because if he does, it leaves a straight line of attack between Rust and me.
Arwyn leans onto his right boot, and his bulking form is suddenly blocking me from a new angle.
Then his arm moves—quick, precise.
A knife flies past my shoulder, disappearing into the darkness.
I hear it clatter on the road.
Arwyn whacked the blade away.
But if he knows who threw the knife, he doesn’t share it with me. I have no idea who got that close to striking me.
I just know that I’m stuck in a puddle, the torchlight shuddering over chaos, because my hand won’t stop trembling—
And the fight is sickening.
Brutal. Relentless. Sometimes spilling too close to me.
Warriors roll into each other, pairs forming clouds of chaos, then they split apart again.
I can’t track it all.
I just catch fragments—Shark taking a hit, Mika staggering, black blood spilling from her nose, and she shouts something strangled before she rams into the scarred fae’s back.
He is thrown off his boots from the impact—
And he crashes into Samick’s side.
The impact staggers Samick, slips his boots, and he stumbles into my line of sight.
Everything in me freezes.
Because Rust has an opening.
There’s no fucking hesitation.
Rust vaults for me.
Time stutters.
Arwyn rushes forward, intercepting Rust with a clash of swords that strikes the cold air.
Orange fae peels off and lunges for Arwyn.
And my panicked gaze hesitates for a beat, swerving around for Shark who should be coming any second now to take down the orange warrior…
But instead, I find a crumpled body on the road.
Shark.
