Clotho gave a sharp gasp as the knife grazed her skin, sure for a moment that her small act of defiance had been noticed, but nobody so much as looked at the metal object half-concealed within her left fist. She stumbled on the stairs, nearly tasting the blade a third time as Theon began his leering description of what he would do to her. She was trembling, she realised, and she hated herself for it.
Arsen put a stop to the other two's bloody fantasies with a sharp rebuke.
"Finally," grunted Atropos, who had already reached the top of the staircase. "I was beginning to think you didn't have a lick of sense between you."
The door to the apartment had been left wide open, and Atropos stalked into the warmly-lit living room. It was light in here after the shadowy stairwell, but the Crone didn't so much as blink in the sudden brightness. Lachesis came next, backing into the room slowly with the shotgun still trained on the Phonoi.