One breath after another slowed; my heart tightened as the world collapsed into a tunnel. In the center stood a single figure, John.
Killing him now would be easy; he was too distracted. I told myself I didn't care what would happen to Arthur, but that was a lie. I wanted the kid to live.
"Sorry," I whispered, the word slipping out like a stray bullet, useless now. It was too late for either of us. Needles coiled around my index finger, spinning at my command, a tiny whirl of steel waiting to singe flesh. I fed the motion into the scalpel already poised at his neck; one clean slice and the nerves would be severed, his head tipping forward in a neat, merciful end.
Yet at that moment, when it seemed the end had already come, something impossible happened. I had sworn he was only a child, helpless against monsters. But as my blade neared within a meter, Arthur's small body launched upward and threw itself between us. The world slowed to a crawl. My mind couldn't catch up.
