Page 72 of Bad Bunny
I drop lower than he anticipates, lower than balance should allow, and instead of meeting his force, I let it pass.
With nothing to resist him, his forward momentum carries him too far. His boots tear up sod as he stumbles through the space I have vacated, blade slicing only air. He recovers quickly,as he always does, planting hard and rising into another strike without hesitation.
This time I meet him.
Our blades lock between us, metal shrieking as it grinds. We’re close enough that I can see the pulse in his temple, the calculation in his eyes.
Behind me, the bond burns bright.
Nora.
Her presence steadies my hand more than steel ever could.
“You hesitate,” he murmurs, breath hot against my cheek.
He is wrong.
I do not hesitate.
I mourn.
For an instant I see him as he was, standing behind me in the training yard, correcting my stance, guiding my grip with steady hands. I remember the pride in his eyes when I first disarmed a guard twice my size.
“I shall miss you, Uncle,” I tell him. “The man you once were.”
He sees the grief in my expression, and it enrages him.
“You’re weak,” he snarls, shoving forward with all his weight. “Just like your father.”
That shove is his mistake.
I yield, not in surrender but in invitation, and let his force carry him through me without resistance. His balance shifts forward just enough.
I pivot.
Thornreaper drives through his ribs and into his chest.
Rion releases a startled roar. He pulls away, and Thornreaper comes free with a wet, sucking sound. Blood, crimson and shining, gushes from his side. Most likely a fatal wound, if given enough time.
But time is something neither of us has.
Instead of coming for me again, he turns.
Toward Nora.
She stands just outside the circle of our combat, eyes wide, hands clamped over her mouth as though physically restraining herself from crying out.
I see the decision in his eyes.
“No!” I shout, but I’m not fast enough.
He sprints to her, one hand pressed to his wound. Nora shrieks as he seizes her around the waist and yanks her back against his chest.
The blood-forged blade presses to her throat.
It bites, and a thin line of red appears.
“Nora!” My voice tears from my lungs.
