The knife was tilted to the side, as if purposely showing her the blade, as if wanting her to see one last thing before he killed her. He was sure that's how this would end, with or without new bruises and consequences to add to the blood that had been spilled on and from Hyperion's body.

He instinctively winced away from her attack, knife barely touching his skin as his legs moved, to the side, crouching down to catch the girl by her hair, to yank her back and expose her neck, shoving her back down on the ground with the knife against her throat.

"I'll do it quickly," He muttered through his teeth, struggling to keep her in place, without a single worry as to whether she went down quietly or screeching like a banshee, "I'll do it quickly."

She wouldn't feel a thing. It'd be merciful. She was worthy for fighting back.