He's not even conscious of making the decision.


The Scythe hits the ground with a thwack as he dives behind the table, coming up under its cover in a half-crouch with one foot on the Scythe, one knee on the ground--

--and an arm pressed tightly against Emma's throat, the gun at her temple.

"Nobody leaves this room, isn't that what you said?"

His voice is low and tight with the effort of keeping control; Sam's eyes are hard and flat.

"Call them off right now, or the only way you're going out of here is in a body bag."