Noah shoved through another door, his boots hammering on the floor, and his breath coming fast enough to scrape his throat raw.
Zubair stayed behind him. Steady. Measured.
The man threw a table down in the next hall, tripped over it himself in the panic to put something between them.
Zubair stepped over the table without looking down.
The knife came out of nowhere. Noah had another one strapped to his ankle, jerked it free while backing up. He slashed wide at Zubair's face, desperation throwing his weight off.
Zubair didn't bother to block. The blade cut a line across his cheekbone, deep enough to hit bone before pulling free.
The skin knitted shut before the second swing landed.
Noah saw it this time.
His eyes went wider than before.
Zubair caught his wrist mid-swing.
Noah's bones cracked and broke when he twisted them. The knife clattered to the floor.
The man tried to pull back, but he couldn't. Zubair's grip didn't budge.
