They all reeled back like a struck animal pack — shocked, unsteady, stripped of swagger. Their knives hung useless in hands that suddenly trembled.
I took one slow step forward, letting the silence stretch until it felt like the whole room was holding its breath with me.
“Who’s next?” I asked.
Their eyes slid away. Not one of them met mine.
“Cowards,” I said, because naming what they were made it real.
Then I turned my back on them and walked straight to Evelyn. She was folded against the wheel, limp and small as if bruises had compressed the life out of her, but when she saw me she blinked hard and something like awe — relief — went through her gaze.
I bent down and started working at the ropes. My fingers moved on muscle memory: find the knot, pinch the loop, push the end free. The
