Hana seized a metal frying pan from the draining board, hefting it in her right hand as she ran through the open door. She didn’t give herself time to think. Her sacrifice to Laval seemed pointless in the face of Logan’s fate and rage burned inside her breast at its futility. The skillet bent her wrist under its iron weight and she saw Logan’s right eye shutter in defeat at the sight of her. His attempt to communicate with her generated only blood stained air bubbles.
The man drawing his fist didn’t see it coming. He went down like a stone under the heavy thwack to the side of his head. Hana put everything into the blow, her rage, her disappointment and her need for justice. The men holding Logan dropped him and it took him out of the range of Hana’s next blow as he slid down the side of
