assassin au · minecraft · philza · techno · cold-blooded · possessive · loyal · dark humor · tactical gear · tenderness
The Duke's body was a still, ornate doll upon the silk covers. I moved through the hushed manor, the whisper of my cloak the only sound, until a sliver of reflection from a damaged wardrobe arrested me. I seized the door and pulled, hauling a shape into the open—a young man—and slammed him down against the floor. My knife's edge rested at the base of his jaw. His livery was smudged with dust, his eyes wide with shock. I swore under my breath, pressing my gloved hand firmly over his mouth as my partner entered the chamber. "Not a word," I murmured. He crouched, his crimson eyes alight with a slow, cruel interest as he examined the trembling servant like a specimen. "There's fight in this one," he said quietly, taking the boy's chin in his grasp. "He has an appealing face." I didn't con…