“Let her go,” Branscombe said, stepping forwards, regardless of his own safety. “She’s a child!”

Jones pressed the knife point a little harder into River’s skin, drawing a single drop of blood that ran quickly down the blade. “And I have finished waiting!”

River smiled, and Branscombe felt a thrill like ice water run down his spine.

---

Mal’s comlink buzzed. Quickly freeing it from his pocket he whispered, “Yeah?”

Freya’s voice sounded quietly. “Mal, Jayne’s nearly got to Inara. Level five.”

He smiled a little. “Good work. River tell you that?”

“Yes. She also said to hurry before she does something she won’t regret.”

“Like what?”

“Do we really want to find out?” Freya asked.

“Not really. We’re almost at the ballroom.”

---

Jayne nodded towards a door. “That’s it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He reached up to the frame, running his large calloused fingers along it, then grinned as a small key fell into his palm. “Told ya.” He unlocked the door.

“Jayne?” Inara cried from inside, throwing her arms around him.

“You okay?” he asked, looking her up and down. “Not hurt, are ya?”

Inara glanced at the bruises on her hands from where she’d been beating the door but shook her head. “No, no. But River –“

“Cap’s taking care of that,” Jayne assured her. “Come on. Best get you home.” He put his arm around her and stepped out into the corridor.

“Jayne!” Jethro shouted, pushing him back, falling into the room himself even as a shot rang out.

-

River screamed.

-

“Oh, dear God,” Freya breathed, staring at Hank, her face going white.

-

Mal ran into the ballroom, fearing the worst.

Jones looked startled, his ears ringing from the noise she was making, and it gave her more than enough time. She slipped under his arm like oiled water, pulling the knife from his hand and slitting his throat in one smooth movement. Blood spattered across her skin but she ignored it as he fell to the floor, thrashing as his life spread out beneath him.

His men