Page 158 of Shadowfox

Toward the danger.

And I knew what was about to happen.

But I couldn’t stop it.

Another thunder crack.

Then everything slowed.

61

Thomas

Iwatchedhimturn.

It happened so fast—and so slow—that my mind struggled to process it. Farkas’s shoulder twisted first, like his body was trying to resist the current pulling him forward. Then his whole frame pivoted back toward the Hungarian bank, out of Will’s grip, toward the flashlights and gunfire.

Toward danger.

“No!” I shouted, but the word broke apart in my throat, torn by the wind and the river and the pain that was already eating through my shoulder like rust.

He didn’t hear me. Or he did and didn’t care.

His head turned just enough to find Eszter.

She was ahead of us, only a few feet away, clutched tight against Sparrow’s coat. I couldn’t see her face, but I saw her arm stretch—just a little—as though some part of her knew what he was about to do.

Farkas looked at her like she was the only thing left in the world.

His coat parted, revealing the box beneath—his invention, the thing we’d risked everything to save. He held it like a second heart, pressed close to his chest.

I opened my mouth again to shout, but another gunshot cracked across the river and my world narrowed to a pinpoint.

Farkas stepped away—no,in front of her—one arm flared out, his body wide, a barrier of flesh and wool and genius.

Then—

Crack!

The sound was different. It had weight.

It held finality.

And in the moment that followed, I watched everything happen in pieces.

The box buckled first.

Wood splintered.

Glass shattered with a sound like ice snapping underfoot.

The impact drove into Farkas’s chest, and for an instant, he stayed upright—his mouth opening, but no sound coming out.

The gears inside the box spilled outward like entrails of brass and wire. His arms flailed once—fingers flexing, grasping at something that wasn’t there—and his legs buckled beneath him.

He still didn’t cry out.

His face contorted, and his lips opened like he wanted to speak—to call her name, or perhaps to apologize—but words never formed.

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