Page 96 of Blade of the Nightking

“Sharp mouth for human filth.” He spat a wad of phlegm to the side and advanced on me. “Think I'll cut your tongue out for it once I've had my fun.”

The two at his sides spread out just enough to block any escape. One cracked his knuckles, the sharp pop echoing off the alley walls.

“Me first.” The leader’s grin turned ugly.

They moved toward me at once, slow and unhurried, their eyes glittering with cruel anticipation, like they meant to enjoy every second of what came next.

The frigid air burned in my lungs as I glanced around for anything I could use. A loose stone. A broken crate. Anything heavy enough to swing. If I could drop one of them, even for a second, I might be able to slip through and run.

The one on the right let out a low, rasping laugh, like he could see exactly what I was thinking. He reached for me, his hand opening slowly, fingers flexing as if he could already feel my arm in his grip. I shifted my weight, my heart pounding as I braced myself. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

His thick fingers stopped inches from me, his eyes widening in sudden confusion as they met mine⁠—

He was yanked backward into the fog. A short, choked grunt, a heavy thud out of sight. Then nothing.

The other two whirled around, staring into the swirling gray where their companion had vanished. The second man squinted into the fog, his mouth parting as if to call out for him⁠—

His body snapped forward just as suddenly as the first, vanishing from sight. A loud crack split the silence, followed by a hoarse, pained yell that cut off almost instantly.

Sudden stillness. The fog closed in around us, dense and impenetrable.

The leader peered into the thick swirl, his shoulders rigid, his back to me. His grip tightened on the knife until his knuckles blanched. His breath came faster now, fearful, each exhale ragged in the cold.

“Who’s there?” he called loudly. “Show yourself.”

For a moment, nothing answered.

Then a figure stepped through the haze. Tall and imposing, his face lost in the shadow of a dark hood. The bond snapped tight inside me, that familiar, inescapable pull locking into place. And I knew.

I knew without needing to see his face.

Dread curled low in my gut.

“She’s mine,” he growled.

The leader hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before pride and drink smothered whatever instinct had urged caution. He squared his shoulders, planted his feet, and leveled his knife at the stranger. “You’ll wait your turn.”

My pulse quickened. He had no idea what stood in front of him. He didn’t know what kind of monster he was facing.

“No, he’s—” I stepped forward without thinking, the warning tearing out of me before I could stop it.

He spun on me instantly, already wound too tight, and drove his knife forward, straight into my side. For a split second there was no pain, only pressure, deep and wrong as the blade sank in. Then it came all at once, ripping through me, stealing the air from my chest as a choked cry escaped my lips.

He stared at me, startled, and stumbled back half a step, leaving the blade buried in my side. His hand dropped to his belt, fumbling for another knife. He managed to tear it free⁠—

Just as Rìan moved.

It happened too quickly to follow. The male's wild slash cut through empty air, Rìan already stepping past it with a fluid turn that sent his cloak sweeping wide. His hand closed around the man's wrist and twisted. Bone snapped with a sickening crack, and the man's howl of agony split the air. The knife flew from limp fingers, spinning into the fog and out of sight.

The male barely had time to react before the first blow landed, his head snapping back as blood burst from his shattered nose. The second blow caught him across the temple and he went limp, collapsing to his knees before pitching face-first into the dirt.

Silence settled again.

I stayed where I was, breath shallow, the world tilting as my hand trembled over the knife lodged in my side. Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my fingers around the hilt and pulled. A grunt tore from my throat as it slid free, blood spilling hot and slick over my hand. It slipped from my fingers, my vision swimming, but it never hit the ground.

Impossibly fast, Rìan moved forward, catching it in his palm.

He turned away without a word and crossed to the unconscious male. He seized the back of his shirt and rolled him over. My vision swam, and I couldn’t make out what he was doing. Finally, he straightened, his hood slipping back as he tossed the knife aside.