Viktor lunged at me, eyes wild. His movements were sloppy with anger, but they were still predictable. The blade came down and I shifted to the side, catching his wrist in a single, practiced motion. With a twist the knife flew from his hand and clattered to the floor.
Before he could recover, I stepped in and pulled his arm back hard. A sickening pop echoed through the corridor as his shoulder dislocated. Viktor screamed; his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees, clutching at the joint.
I let him stumble back, then faced the rest of them. Ten men, frozen and indecisive, staring at the heap of bodies and the one man left standing. I cracked my knuckles and let a smirk cut across my face.
“Waiting for an invitation?” I said, voice flat. “Come on—come all of you.”
That was all it too
