His body turned the shield toward it anyway. Half an inch. Less than a heartbeat's worth of correction toward a girl he'd sworn to keep breathing.
Half an inch was the whole door.
Alice stepped inside the shield rim like she'd been invited and drove the short blade into his chest.
Declan looked down at it. Then he did the last thing his art was built for. He dropped the shield, took Alice's wrist in both hands, and held her there, teeth locked, blood climbing his throat, keeping her pinned in one place for Marcus, for Finn, for anyone.
"Now—" he got out.
Alice turned the blade upward inside him, and the strength went out of his hands like water out of a cut skin. His grip slid off her wrist. His knees went. The Martyr Wall's grey light died on the floor beside him.
[DECLAN O'ROURKE — HP: 7,840/9,200 → 0/9,200]
[CHALLENGER DECLAN O'ROURKE HAS DIED]
"Declan—" Maeve was already moving toward him, hands out.
