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‘I —’
‘Let’s not pretend that you’ll withstandanysort of pain out of loyalty. Who are you working for?’
Thea approached, watching the leader with cold disinterest. This man had attacked her and Wilder, had threatened them with death and worse… She would gladly watch him suffer, she decided. What she couldn’t make up her mind about was if she wanted to be the one inflicting the damage.
‘Please, don’t kill me.’ The man’s legs were still flailing beneath him as Wilder held him up effortlessly. To think that they had imagined the Warsword to be contained by mere chains… Thea almost laughed.
‘Tell us what we want to know, then,’ she said, taking a step closer, watching as his face turned red.
‘Don’t know who hired us,’ he rasped. ‘Someone put out an anonymous bounty. Said the Hand of Death had been sticking his nose in where it don’t belong.’
‘What was your method of contact?’ Wilder demanded.
‘Saw a clipping in a tavern window. Went for a meet there. Please —’
‘Who did you meet?’
‘Man kept his face covered. Big man.’
Thea folded her arms over her chest. ‘And what of the rest of your gang? Did they gather at your orders or someone else’s?’
‘Mine. I saw the flyer. I arranged it all. They were just in it for their cut. Liked the idea of taking a Warsword down.’
Wilder gave a dark laugh. ‘Is that so?’
The man made a desperate gurgling sound. ‘I don’t know no more, I swear it.’
‘Are you sure?’ Wilder asked it in an unsettling way, like he was asking a child if they’d had enough dinner.
Relief flooded the man’s bulging eyes. ‘I swear. That’s all I know.’
Wilder nodded with understanding as he slowly lowered the mercenary to the ground. ‘You remember how I said you’d bleed to death if I removed this?’ he said, almost kindly.
The man nodded, confused.
Wilder’s hand went to the grip of the blade, and in one clean motion, he pulled it free.
Blood spurted like a fountain, hitting Wilder square in the chest, but from the look on his face, he hardly noticed as he dropped the mercenary carelessly.
The man was dead in seconds.
Thea scanned Wilder critically. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Nothing more than a few scratches,’ he said, surveying the damage around them. ‘You?’
Thea shook her head as he scanned her body in turn, searching for any sign of harm. ‘Tore my stitches. But that’s it.’
Wilder handed her Malik’s dagger. ‘I believe this is yours.’
Blood shone in the engraved words.Glory in death, immortality in legend.
She took it and crouched to wipe it on the dead mercenary’s tunic before sheathing it at her belt. For a moment, she stared at the corpse, regretting that she hadn’t left others alive to interrogate. Someone wanted her and Wilder dead.
‘Does it bother you?’ Wilder asked, his voice low as he watched her. ‘How I killed him?’
Thea frowned. ‘I killed eleven more than you.’
‘I killed in cold blood and I enjoyed it,’ Wilder said, his gaze fiery.
