56: Ryann
Ryann
Ryann watched the young guard fall to the ground. She watched over the top of his companion’s Preben, still in her hands. The connection with her lattice informed her that one charge had been used.
The young guard didn’t move. Ryann couldn’t pull her eyes from the dark patch that grew beneath his body.
“I’m sorry.”
The words slipped from her lips, so pathetically inconsequential. But she repeated them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”
She sniffed, and that freed her. She relaxed her arms and stood. Sharp pain flared in her side.
She inspected the wound, carefully pulling apart the b****y strips of her top. The guard’s knife had been sharp, and the finger-length wound was neat. Aided by her lattice, her muscles held the wound together while a net of platelets form
