A sudden weight around her neck, the cold slide of steel, a strangled shout. It was instinct to lean forward against the strain, to lift and throw, but that was death. She knew this dance, and instead threw herself backwards, away from the cutting surface. Wet, blood-borne heat bloomed along scar and scab across one cheek as Rat's blade found purchase wide of the mark.

"Mother-fucker," snarled against the scrape between blade and jawbone as she got her hands on his wrist and wrenched, hoping to break his bones, to break free, or both.