My heart pounded against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Really?" I whispered to Xiaotao, who was frantically trying to wrap a bandage around a nasty scrape on my arm. "Right now? Pei Yuan is literally out there dancing with death, and you're worried about a paper cut?"
The air was thick with the clashing of steel, punctuated by grunts and shouts. Flickering torchlight cast long, dancing shadows, making the warehouse look like a set for a particularly terrifying play. The air smelled heavy with sweat and panic, mixed with the stale musk of old crates and forgotten cargo. I could practically taste the dust kicked up by the melee.
Chapter 42