The mace could have killed the Jedi. She could’ve killed the Jedi, for the second time in so many days. Ty knew it and regretted what she had done, just as she had regretted going for his heart the previous evening, but no one took her lightsaber. No one.

She could cope with being locked up—that had happened often enough—but that weapon was one of the only links she had to her old life, before all the monsters and the gangsters. Back when she was good.

“Ty? Ty, what the hell are you doing?”

It was Mantessa, stumbling out of the smoke behind her, Klerin a few steps behind. “We need to leave now.”

“Not until I get what is mine,” Ty said, keeping her eyes locked on the Jedi, who was struggling to get up, stunned by the blow. His cheek was already swollen, maybe even fractured, but Jedi could cope with pain, she knew that. She had learned the lessons herself.

“You don’t want to do this,” the Jedi said, his words slurred. “You’re only making it worse.”

Worse than being a fugitive? Even in the middle of the Nihil attack, running from the authorities was another black mark in her ledger, helpful Padawans or not.

“Just give me my lightsaber and I’ll go,” she told him, holding out her hand. “You’ll never see me again.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

Ty dropped back into a fighting stance as the Jedi lurched up to his feet, swaying slightly. “I don’t see how you have much choice.”

“Is that so?”

The mace was yanked from her grip, flying into his hand. Ty swore, bunching her fists instead. If only she’d managed to recover the rest of her arsenal from the jail. This was a bout she couldn’t win, even with the Jedi in this state, and the smug bastard knew it.

Still, she had never run from a fight.

“Yorrick!” Mantessa hissed from behind.

“You go,” she called over her shoulder, not taking her eyes from the Jedi, who had the mace down by his side, his eyes surprisingly clear for a man who had just been half brained to death. “I’ll find you later.”

“Don’t bother,” came the reply, and Mantessa pulled Klerin into the smoke. Good. That was two fewer people to worry about. It wasn’t as if she expected to be paid anyway, not after how badly the gig had gone. A decision made then. No more bodyguard jobs. From this day on she’d do what she did best—bringing down monsters—and for that she’d need her lightsaber.

“Well?” she said, eyeing the mace.

“Well what?”

“Are we going to do this?”