The noise dropped fast.
Engines that had survived idled once, then cut out completely.
The fire from the nearest truck slowed as Zubair pulled it back. Ice kept spreading on its own, thin now, just enough to harden the blood on the street. The smoke hung low, obscuring everyone's vision until there were only a few feet of visibility.
And still, the five of them stood in the middle of all the chaos, barely breathing hard.
Alexei watched the edges.
The main force had broken. The Saint Eaters who could still think had run. The ones trapped under trucks were burning. The ones who had slipped on the ice lay still.
For a moment, it looked like everything was done.
Then a body twitched.
Alexei turned toward it. It was a man from the first wave, jacket torn, throat shot out. He should have stayed down. Instead, his back arched and his fingers clawed at the pavement.
"Movement to the right," Alexei announced, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him.
