Cassian's killing intent flared even harder—but for a brief moment, the battlefield around him stalled.
People stared.
The sheer brutality of what he'd just done few froze in thier place. He stood there soaked in blood, some of it still warm on his face, his abdomen torn open, slick with gore. Savage. Unmistakable.
That pause gave him just enough time.
He grabbed what was hanging loose and shoved it back where it belonged. The sight made Theon recoil.
"That's disgusting," Theon muttered, even as he fired off a shot, dropping a mage who had been lining up a spell on Cassian.
Cassian tipped back a healing potion, the liquid burning down his throat as regeneration surged faster. Flesh pulled together. Skin knit closed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lifted his head.
His eyes scanned the enemy ranks—not for the strongest, not for the closest.
He was looking for familiarity.
