Jake let him come.
Waited until Makath was committed to the approach, until the Tiger Lord's trajectory was fixed and the energy of his charge was fully invested in the direction it was going.
Then Jake opened his eyes.
The Basilisk's gaze was not simply looking.
It was a weapon in its own right, the red eyes carrying an ability that the bloodline had built into the form at a level below technique—a pressure that operated through the visual connection between predator and prey, ancient and absolute.
It hit Makath at four meters' distance, and the Tiger Lord's charge faltered in the specific way that bodies falter when the nervous system receives a signal that overrides the voluntary command being sent to the muscles.
Not paralysis but something adjacent to it.
The particular disruption of a system receiving two contradictory instructions simultaneously and failing to execute either cleanly.
Makath stumbled.
Jake moved.
