Gabriel didn't wait.
He tore the spear from the man's weakening grip and swung the haft low. The blow struck the knee hard. Something gave way with a snap, and the joint folded inward.
The soldier collapsed with a sharp cry, hands flying to his leg as blood soaked through the fabric almost immediately.
Gabriel reversed the spear and drove the point down through the man's shoulder, forcing him flat against the stones. The blade punched through muscle and into the ground beneath, deep enough to hold.
Blood spread beneath him as he screamed through clenched teeth, pinned and helpless.
Gilbert stepped out of the alley, spear lowered but ready. His expression was set, jaw tight with resolve, unease flickering just beneath it.
"Gabriel," he said quietly. "Ease up. We need them talking, not bleeding out."
"Quiet."
The word ended the discussion.
Gabriel dropped to one knee beside the pinned soldier and twisted the spear shaft a fraction.
