Chapter 16: Teeth And Silence
Apollo hesitated, then reached for the crossbow. Its wood was still slick with the sweat of the dead man, the bowstring caked with splinters and, he realized, bits of skin.
He held it awkwardly, aiming low, the way city guards did when they really meant to kill.
Cassian’s smile barely shifted. "Now," he said, "let’s be—"
Lyra twisted sharply, a fast, convulsive motion that snapped her shoulder out of the henchman’s grip.
She slammed her heel into his instep, then spun and drove a glass beaker, Gods only knew from where, straight into the side of the man’s neck.
It didn’t shatter, just punched in and hung there, a blue glass tumor pulsing with arterial spray.
The man clapped a hand to the wound and dropped, knees hitting the brick with an audible crack.
Lyra didn’t pause, she shot towards Cassian, her hands wide and flat, fingers curled for the eyes.
Cassian’s arm was still across Nik’s windpipe. For a split second, his attention flickered: Would he let go and deal with Lyra, or hold his leverage and risk her teeth or nails?
The indecision cost him, Lyra’s left hand clawed at his face, raking three red tracks across his cheekbone.
She followed with the heel of her palm, aiming for his nose, but Cassian jerked his head back, twisted Nik between them as a shield.