Stan didn't swing yet his fist yet. He had closed the distance, letting the deadly, concentrated shimmer of compressed Qi pool in the center of his right palm, and he let Damien watch it happen. He allowed the silence to stretch, letting the humid night air and the distant, sweeping beam of a police helicopter's searchlight frame the absolute finality of the moment in the alley.
Then, Stan spoke. His voice wasn't raised. It was the quiet, measured tone of a man who had decided exactly how this was going to end the moment he left Sophie's apartment.
"This new strength you found," Stan said softly.
Damien's bloodshot eyes jerked up.
"The one you discovered in your cell. It gave you confidence, didn't it."
Damien didn't answer.
"Enough confidence to break out. To walk onto a highway and let a petrol station camera catch half your face. Enough to convince yourself that when you got out, you were going to balance the scales."
Stan stepped a fraction of an inch closer.
