Chapter Forty-Two: Civilised People

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Regan darted in too fast for Forester to see. One moment she was standing in front of Gareth, and the next she was within striking range. Her speed surprised Gareth too. He stumbled back and winced as her knife caught him across the stomach. Regan twisted and attacked again, forcing him to retreat from her furious slashes. He lifted his arms to shield his face as she lashed out at his eyes. Regan increased the speed of her attacks, spinning into them to give each cut extra force. Forester could see Gareth's back muscles tense as each slash raked across his body. 

Gareth threw himself to the side to escape the relentless onslaught. He rolled under a metal bench and pulled himself to his feet on the other side. Regan paused. Both of them were breathing heavily. Gareth's shirt had been shredded, and his skin was covered in angry red welts. Regan sniffed and rubbed her nose with the bandages wrapped around her hand. 

Forester looked at Sarafina. 'Are you sure it's safe for her to be fighting like this. What if her injuries haven't healed?' 

'Short of killing her, I don't think we could stop her if we tried.' 

Forester ran a finger along the rough stubble on his jaw. 'I don't want to be the one to say it, but we don't have to stay for this. We have Eva. Does it matter if these two tear themselves apart?' 

When Sarafina didn't respond, he glanced back at her. She was giving him a flat, unfriendly look. 

Forester felt a hot red flush of embarrassment blossom up from his chest and settle in his cheeks. 

'That was unworthy of you,' said Sarafina. 'We owe it to her to stay.' 

'Right,' Forester cleared his throat. 'Sorry I asked.' 

He felt a light tug on the side of his jacket and looked down at Eva. She pointed at his face. 

'You look like a tomato.' 

At the other end of the room, Gareth tried to position himself so the table formed a barrier between him and Regan. He looked less composed now. His hair was sticking out in unruly tufts, and there was a sheen of sweat glistening on his face. He pulled the brass knuckles off his fingers and flexed them to get the blood flowing again. 

'Is this how it's going to go?' he said. 'Are you going to spend the next ten years hacking away at me to make a dent?' 

Regan tested the blade of her knife with her thumb and looked at him silently. 

Gareth held his hands out beside him.

'I can't hit you. I'll admit that. You're too quick. But you can't cut me. Surely you can see that we've got an impasse.' 

'No.' 

Gareth cocked an eyebrow. 

'I have your measure now,' said Regan. 

Gareth leant on the bench in front of him and looked at her seriously. 

'I don't even care what that means. I'm getting out of here, girly, and there's nothing you can do to stop me.' 

'Run. Fight. Beg. Threaten. The outcome was always going to be the same.' 

Forester saw a muscle twitch at the corner of Gareth's eye. He wondered what was going through the drug dealer's mind. His plans were in tatters, and his companions were dead. Now there was Regan, a silencer, standing in front of him with the absolute confidence that she was going to kill him. 

Gareth slipped the brass knuckles onto his fingers again. 

'I've smashed my way out of worse situations. If I've learned anything, it's that you can't keep a good man down.' 

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