He jerked backwards reflexively as she collapsed in front of him. But as weary and pained as he was, he couldn't managed more than to scoot backwards before she stabbed him.
His face contorted in pain alright. The knife slid in all to easily and stuck into the flesh there, up to the hilt.
His years of training beneath Jean-Luc were not all for nothing. Past the pain. Past the sheer agony. There was fury. And that alone pushed him to grab her wrist, digging his fingers into the pressure point between her radius and ulna to make her drop the blade and then twisting it backwards. He wanted to hurt her. Bend her arm backwards until it snapped.