Reina appeared beside him. Hanae didn't see her move, didn't see the blade, but suddenly the guard was stumbling back, looking down at his hand where his radio used to be. It was on the floor now, in pieces, and there was a thin line of blood across his palm.
"She can," Reina said cheerfully. "And she is."
Another guard pulled a weapon—looked like a taser. Ren was there before it cleared the holster, hand clamping on the guard's throat, squeezing just hard enough to make breathing difficult.
"Don't," Ren said quietly.
The music was too loud for most of the club to notice the commotion. But word was spreading. She could see it rippling through the crowd, see people pulling out phones, see more security heading their way.
Hanae reached the stairs. Started climbing.
A guard blocked her path. Bigger than the first one, trained by the way he stood.
"Last warning," he said. "Turn around or—"
Hanae punched him in the throat.
