She smiled at him, despite the fear that fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird. “You’re aiming at the wrong place. My heart’s a lot lower than that.”

She watched, with a curious mixture of anger and compassion, as he swallowed. She could see his throat work as he licked his lips. He was almost in reach of her legs. Almost …

“Nice setup you’ve got here.” Moth braced her palms against the floor. “Your dad must earn a lot of money dusting vamps, huh?”

A single bead of sweat trickled down Jace’s temple. She wondered what it would taste like, whether she would get the chance to taste him.

His foot moved forward—one more step—and it was enough.

Moth moved. She pushed her hands down and flipped her legs up, slamming her bound feet into his knee and hearing the satisfying crunch of bone.

Jace collapsed, howling with pain. The crossbow fell beside him and released its deadly bolt, whizzing past Moth’s ear and landing with a thunk just below the window as it buried itself in the aged plaster. Moth’s momentum had carried her on top of her would-be captor. Her legs were hopelessly bound with those thick chains, but she still managed to roll onto her knees and pin Jace to the ground.

His face was the color of raw putty as he struggled beneath her, surprising her with his human strength despite the injury, but she held him with ease.

“Quit moving around.” Moth smiled sweetly. “You don’t want to hurt yourself now, do you?” She’d just broken the guy’s kneecap, and she knew she was being a cow but … what the hell. He deserved it.

Even without the use of her legs—even with the broken silver cuffs still circling her wrists—Moth was stronger than him. Despite the difference in their sizes, she pushed down on his arms and lay on top of him with her knees resting between his legs. If she pressed her knees in just the right way, Jace was going to be in a lot more pain than he already was.