𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐍

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝

Of fucking course.

If anything, Briéa's agitated. She was looking forward to making Henri shiver and plead beneath her. That won't be happening tonight.

He wraps his arms tight around her and together they go tumbling over the side of the bed, away from the broken door and flying glass, their limbs tangled together as they crash to the ground. Briéa half expects Henri to be a blubbering idiot, maybe even screaming, but is surprised when he's only got eyes wide in a slightly terrified kind of way. Her hand slides between them, reaching for her leg, but accidentally brushing against Henri's dick. He groans at her touch and his wide eyes turn from horrified to panicked.

Men and their cocks.

"Oh come on," she mutters, rolling her eyes and sliding off of him. Her hands find the hilt of her dagger.

"What are you-"

Briéa doesn't hear the rest. Rushing to her feet, she rolls back over the bed, body wired and ready to fight, the Reaper's Shiv primed in her hand to strike.

The intruder is already on their feet, brushing glass off their leather clad shoulders. Beneath her, shards from the broken door pierce the soles of her feet but those can be dealt with later. A bushy-bearded man with a nasty scar that runs down the length of his face growls at her. At full height he seems to be the same height as Zaara, but he only wields one sword, the hilt crafted to look like a bird in flight.

His eyes are narrowed at her, one quick look at her and his lips curl up into a grin. Briéa knows what they seem. Barefoot, wearing nothing but a flimsy dress, holding a single knife, and a woman.

Cocky bastard.

He's ruined her evening and pissed her off. There is no hesitation as she lunges for the spot just beneath his armpit. Her blade sinks in. There's a squelch as it cuts through flesh and muscle, digging past bone. Blood sputters from the wound, running down Briéa's arm, coating it in red. The grin of the Reaper slithers up her face.

The intruder only winces when Briéa wrings her dagger from his body. He swings his own blade in a blow meant to kill. She turns too late and the edge of his sword finds her exposed thigh, it even manages to cut through muscle.

With her turn she wraps an arm around his neck and squeezes. But even with her speed, Briéa's no match for the intruder's strength. And as she tries to bring him down, he reaches behind and grabs a fistful of her hair. Her knee delivers a blow to his back but he still manages to pull on her hair, yanking her back around to his front. Beneath her, her legs disappear and she's flat on her back, head banging against the tiled floor. Stars dot her vision for only a moment but in that moment a bone-crushing pressure pushes down on her front.

A muscled leg shoves itself into her neck, simultaneously pinning down the hand still holding her dagger. Slowly, he leans in deeper, digging himself deeper to her throat. The tip of his sword comes above her. She strains underneath his weight but it only makes the grin on his face curl even wider and press down even harder. The blade lowers, starting it's cut at the top of her chest. Blood makes a thin line as he draws the tip down, purposefully slow, until it reaches the base of her sternum.

"I expected more, Briéa," he sneers.

Her name.

There should be no way he knows that.

Her brain starts to pound against her skull and her lungs spasm as they beg for breath. His blade twists, drawing more blood, preparing for the final blow.