He held up his left arm, missing from the wrist down. "Let's settle this score today."
Erin Lowell didn't respond. She retreated a few steps, stopping in a security camera blind spot.
She provoked him. "You couldn't beat me with two hands. With just one, do you really think you stand a chance?"
Ken Shaw stood in the darkness, tilting his head up slightly. His scarred face looked exceptionally sinister. "We'll see what's faster—your fists, or my knife."
He took two steps forward and lunged at Erin Lowell with his knife.
Erin dodged by turning sideways. She pulled a scalpel from her pocket with her right hand, reached out, and slashed at his neck. He jerked back to avoid it.
As if anticipating his move, she angled the blade slightly upward, slicing his chin.
A sharp sting of pain shot through him. Ken Shaw touched his chin with the stump of his arm and felt wetness. He wiped the blood on his clothes and lunged again with the knife. "Fuck! You're asking to die."
