He didn’t stab any of my organs. I knew it the instant the blade settled inside me—not from hope, but from experience. The resistance was wrong. The angle too shallow. The pain was blinding, yes, a violent, crushing pressure that radiated through my chest and threatened to drown my thoughts, but it wasn’t the pain of something torn beyond recovery. The dagger had slipped between ribs, biting muscle, scraping bone, tearing flesh—but sparing what mattered.

  Air tore from my lungs in a sharp, broken gasp. My vision fractured at the edges, swimming with heat and light. Blood filled my mouth where I’d bitten my tongue on impact, coppery and thick. I forced my lips upward anyway, a grimace masquerading as a smile, and stared up at him through the pain. "My instincts saved me there..."

  Finn snarled, rage flashing across his face at the realization that he hadn’t ended it. He shoved the dagger in deeper, putting his weight behind it, trying to force the blade where precision had failed. Darksteel grated against bone with a sickening vibration that rattled my ribcage.

  And yet my vision cleared.

  For the first time since he pinned me, I truly saw him. His face was twisted, veins standing out along his neck, sweat streaked with blood running down his temple. He was leaning too hard, compensating. My eyes drifted downward, drawn by something wrong, something out of place.

  His legs.

  Bare bone jutted through shredded skin, white and slick beneath torn muscle. Blood soaked the ground beneath him, dark and steaming. His stance trembled, micro-adjustments rippling up his body as his ruined legs struggled to obey commands they no longer could. Each movement sent pain screaming through him—pain he’d chosen to ignore until now.

  Flash had eaten him alive.

  But now that he’s vulnerable...

  I let the pain exist without fighting it. I formed my spear hand, fingers locking together with certainty even as blood slicked my palm. My elbow bent, slow and deliberate. The movement tore a groan from deep in my chest as damaged muscle protested, but I held the line, coiling strength despite the dagger still buried inside me.

  I aimed toward his head. "I’ll give you a good fucking slice, on behalf of my parents."

  Finn’s hair stood on end, sweat lifting from his skin as his aura spiked. His eyes widened—not with hesitation, but with recognition. He knew what that motion meant. He knew what Severed Soul would do if it landed.

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  He released the dagger and me in the same frantic instant, abandoning leverage entirely. My strike carved through empty air, missing his throat by mere fractions of an inch. Wind screamed past my fingers, slicing the space where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier.

  It was worth it. The fear in his eyes—raw, unfiltered—was worth every ounce of pain.

  He flashed away, retreating beyond my sight, leaving cracked ground and smeared blood behind him. I rolled onto my side with a wet cough. I won’t die from that stab, but I’m weakened. The adrenaline isn’t enough.

  Focus, Vellin Cardaire.

  I forced myself upright and closed my eyes. I slowed my breathing manually, counting each inhale, each exhale, grounding myself in the present.

  I must sense the movements in the air. The pressure shifts. The displacement. Wait for an attack.

  Silence stretched.

  There!

  The air compressed in front of me. Finn snapped into existence mid-motion, fist already descending. I met it with my palm.

  The impact was decisive. The force reverberated up my arm, but I held firm. Finn groaned, the sound torn from him before he could stop it.

  He stared at me, shock and fury colliding in his eyes. He hadn’t expected to be caught—hadn’t believed I could read him through the damage.

  I kept my grip steady and spoke evenly, almost calmly. "You were thinking too quick. When you’re without a weapon, moving in a straight line against me is suicide."

  He tried to pull back.

  He failed.

  His legs buckled beneath him, spasming uselessly. The damage he’d inflicted on himself finally caught up. He couldn’t flash away—not now, not while restrained. His breathing hitched as panic set in.

  I twisted my hips, shifting my center of gravity, aligning my spine and shoulders for a clean pierce. Pain flared in my chest, but I ignored it. "Now, about that slice..."

  I raised my palm to the sky and brought it down in a clean, horizontal arc, cutting right below his upper leg. Both legs severed in one motion.

  He collapsed to the grass. Shock held him upright for a heartbeat too long before gravity claimed him fully. He flexed instantly, clamping muscle and sealing blood flow, teeth bared in agony.

  "I’ll... I’ll kill you! For her!" he screamed.

  He clawed at the ground, dragging himself forward inch by inch, hatred keeping him moving where his body could not. I stepped forward and ended it with a single motion—grabbing his head and slamming it into the ground. Dirt cracked beneath his skull.

  I bent down and knelt beside him, my shadow falling across his face.

  "I have someone I love too. She would be disappointed. You have killed too many innocents without remorse."

  He spat blood onto the dirt, eyes burning. “She loved what I did! And you've killed innocents too!”

  I placed my hand on his skull and applied pressure, fingers curling into a claw-like grip. “Not one person I killed was innocent. I am no hero, but I am justice.”

  He laughed, broken and hollow. “You’re too far gone. Just kill me already.”

  I released him and stood, turning away as my chest wound healed slowly with each step. “You will be spared. Consider yourself lucky.”

  Without his legs, he's nothing.

  I pressed my hand against my chest as I walked toward Headquarters, blood seeping through my fingers, anger burning brighter than the pain.

  “Because Leo won’t be.”