Damian's eyes narrowed. He supposed her sudden shift could be considered a type of acquiesce. It was far from ideal but, at least, it would leave him the lion's share if their opponents could stamp down on their pride long enough to do their job.
It was little wonder why Mother had decided this group was disposable.
Damian dodged a knife strike to back only to catch a kick to his wrist. He grunted and tried to keep his grip on his sword. He brought his other arm up to block the next swing. He surged forward bringing his other hand around for a backhanded punch, which failed to connect and the momentum left him almost stumbling.
The lapse was more than enough. Damian let out another grunt as he was disarmed, but struck back immediately, stepping on the others sword before shoving a fist in the man's face.
"I don't care what they want," he called back. It wasn't even going to matter in a few minutes.