The assassin's blood was on Riven's claws. His breathing came in rapid pants, but he held still, heart pounding with the rush of adrenaline. It would be so easy to sink his claws in and kill him, but he stopped.
His body screamed to finish it, to protect himself, to end the threat, but something in him, something still soft and human, resisted the kill.
The man moved slightly, a twitch of fingers toward a hidden blade.
Riven's green eyes narrowed—
And then a blur of motion shot past him.
Troy.
The assistant didn't speak as he plunged his dagger into the assassin's throat, clean and sure. There was no hesitation in his hands, no wavering in his gaze. His usual calm was gone, replaced by the fierce glare of someone protecting something important.
The body dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.
Troy turned, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "You can't hesitate," he said quietly, not judgmental, just… Tired.
