The rain had not slowed.
Steel still rang somewhere behind him. The Troll King roared in the distance, its voice rolling across the ruined street like thunder breaking against concrete. Bastion and Bloodclaws clashed in a frenzy of fire and shattered bone.
But around Jagger, there was a pocket of quiet.
He stood where the Bloodclaw had fallen, arm still raised, blood trailing from the edge of Jane's dagger in slow, deliberate drops. Each drop struck the pavement with a faint patter, quickly diluted into the rain.
He had just killed a man.
And he felt nothing.
No guilt. No triumph. No trembling in his hands. His breathing was steady. His pulse was controlled. The absence of emotion unsettled him more than blood ever could.
"How do you know?" he asked under his breath, though his eyes remained fixed on the corpse behind him. "You did the same thing back in the store. It was like you knew what they were going to do before they even moved."
