I don't work for anyone. The words slip through her confusion, ringing clarion like a struck crystal and echoing more like a gong.

It sounds true. Too close to what she wants to hear. Especially if it's one of Amanda's lucid dreams, she must remain skeptical. If it's not and this is somehow real...

"Sorry," she whispers, even as her freed hand comes down, hard and fast, for the (non-lethal) knockout blow that might be her only chance to regain the advantage. To save Michael. And kill Brandt.