Before Sarah could protest, I moved.
My sword flashed—
Not at his neck.
Not at his head.
But diagonally, slicing through his arms just above the elbows, then swinging low to sever his legs at the knees.
Diaz screamed—a high-pitched, animalistic howl of agony—as his limbs hit the ground with a wet thud. His body collapsed, blood spraying from his stumps, his face twisting in sheer, unimaginable pain.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
He thrashed, his stumps gushing blood, his screams echoing off the warehouse walls before he passed out from the shock.
Sarah flinched, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. "Jack... don't!"
I turned to her, my voice cold but calm. "He'll live." My eyes were unapologetic. "But he'll never walk again. Never hold a gun again. Never hurt anyone again."
