Ava dropped down to the filthy concrete, half-blinded, her stinging fingers were red-hot and numb. She tried desperately to blink away the smoke and bright blobs on her vision that were left by the smoke and then the light show Jane had just used to rescue her. 'What the hell kind of brand are those?' she gasped.
'Jarvis's self-rolled,' she heard Jane mutter in response.
'You stole them!' Ro grunted accusingly.
'Sure. I got light fingers, he got big pockets. Figured I could find a use for their smokes.'
But Ava was no longer listening. As her vision started to clear she saw that Stroke had batted Jack back to the ground. He looked a gory mess, his coat matted black with blood – how much was his and how much he'd rolled in she couldn't tell. Before he could get to his feet, the Stroke-wolf was on top of him, stamping down on his barrel-like rib cage. His sharp teeth raked a neat crimson line along Jack's throat.