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Polgár
Csatlakozott: 2013.08.22. Csütörtök 3:20
Hozzászólások: 2
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But it was more than that.There had been something about her, brittleness, vulnerability … He recognized her, he understood in that moment.She was what he might become after a few years of this.He had seen, however briefly, the hollow place in her, the weariness.He still wasn't sure if he believed her or if they were on the same side.
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But he didn't want her to die.He looked back up at the sky.Almost time for her to come home, of course.The assassin would know that, too, wouldn't he?He didn't have any rope or cord.
He could make the jump to the window, maybe, but the odds were against it, and it wouldn't be quiet.But he could jump to the next building, get to her front door before she did, and avoid the whole confrontation.But then he saw light in the window — not in the room itself, but diffuse light, coming from another room.Muttering a curse, he stepped back a few paces, assessed the distance, and leapt.His toes hit the window ledge and he curled forward, elbows over his eyes.
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Glass panes shattered but the wooden frame did not, and so he bounced back, spine toward the street thirty feet below.He kicked a foot through one of the broken panes and managed to hook it on the wood, which swung him back and smacked his shoulders into the brick.Gasping, he jerked up, tightening his stomach muscles, and drew himself up to the window.By the time he got it open, of course, someone was coming for him.He dove past and to the side of the dark blur and rolled toward the lantern-lit room farther in, drawing his knife. |
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