Aurelia was right. Rex was currently working in a very intense and focused way, where subtlety was ignored in favor of straightforward, harsh decisions.
He wasn't feeling "bloodlust" in the traditional sense; he was executing a sequence of violent equations. He was a machine of geometry and mass, and if they stayed, he might just decide that the "variable" of Iris's grief needed to be solved as well.
Iris looked at Rex one last time. Her gaze was a searing, silent accusation, a promise of a pain he hadn't yet calculated.
It was a look of pure, concentrated hatred, wrapped in the velvet of absolute misery.
"Look at what you've done," her eyes seemed to scream, even as her lips remained parted in a silent, trembling gasp.
Aurelia didn't wait for a response. She reached out, her arm hooking firmly around Iris's shaking shoulders, physically forcing the assassin's momentum away from the crater of death.
