In that flash of her arm, Ruby saw the tattoo, the 13 inked into Dana's shoulder. The thing that made her a target.

The attacker thrust forward, part of the blade disappearing into Dana's flesh. She screamed in agony, stumbling back. Dazed, she fell back against a wall, swinging the racket weakly in front of her like a shield.

Without Dana in his hold, Ruby lunged for him again.

She tackled him at the knees, forcing him to the ground.

In a flash, she felt the blade sinking into her arm, this time with its full force. It hurt so badly that her vision started blurring, her body shaking with the pain.

Her hand went numb, the gun falling from her fingers.

Desperate for retaliation, she lunged for the man's face. She punched, swinging her elbow back to smash it into his face. He grappled her, pinning her to the ground.

Ruby was smaller, unarmed, and without back-up and the killer was on top of her.

The man grabbed the knife, pushing it down towards her.

“The way Vincent talks about you, I expected so much more, Agent Hunter,” he hissed. Ruby's mind spun. Somewhere inside her was a surge of relief. She was right. She'd been right the whole time. Vallejo was involved and always had been.

The feeling didn't belong in the middle of a fight.

Ruby grabbed his wrist, trying to force him back, but his hand kept moving. The knife was closer.

“I do hope he won't mind if I kill you,” the man said, a harsh whisper.

Ruby's mind raced. Her body was failing her, her vision started to go dark, but she forced herself to think. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat pumping more blood out of her wounds.

She reached out, blindly groping for her gun, dragging her sleeve through her own pooling blood.

Where the hell was her back-up?

THWAP!

The badminton racket struck the side of his head.

The attacker slumped to the side, knocked off balance by the strike. Dana panted behind him, immediately stumbling backward again. Her chest heaved in heavy, labored breaths. Sweat and blood matted in her hair.

Ruby could see how Dana had held her own before Ruby arrived. She refused to go down without a fight.

The man let out a low, guttural growl from the back of his throat.

He leapt up, blade glinting.

Dana made for the open door, but the killer was upon her faster.

Instead of stabbing her, he swung his fist into her face. Dana slumped against the wall.

Ruby forced herself up, pulling herself onto all fours. Of course. He didn't want to stab Dana like this. He had a pattern to copy. One mismatched wound was okay, but the others needed to form that familiar shape.

His attention to detail was his weakness.

Her gun nowhere to be seen, Ruby rammed him off Dana, her shoulder crunching painfully into him with the force of it.