Her Assassin's Heart - Book 2

Chapter 39

    Fulsmith's manor was a typical example of extravagance and luxury. His men, however, were woefully ill-trained, and Nickolas left their unconscious bodies in piles. Their feeble attempts at stopping him would have been vastly amusing if he hadn't been looking for any sign of Cassandra.

    On his way up a flight of stairs, he came across a pretty young woman in drab clothes. The life seemed to have been sucked out of her, but when she looked into his eyes, he caught the tiniest glimpse of defiant hope. Wordlessly, she pointed toward a door, clearly visible by the dull light framing it.

    "Get out of here." He warned, nodding his thanks.

    As he neared the door, he heard a cry and quickened his pace. Unsure what to expect in the room beyond, Nickolas eased the door open, preparing himself for whatever he would face on the other side. Or so he thought.

    There were no chains, no instrument of torture. Cassandra wasn't bleeding and nearly lifeless. It was a dining room as fancy as they came. On the far side of the table from him, Fulsmith was holding Cassandra, lustful intent in his eyes.

    Hot fury bolted through Nickolas's veins. "Let. Her. Go." His voice was deadly calm.

    They both turned at the sound of his voice, but it was only Cassandra's eyes that Nickolas saw. The pallor of her cheeks was all he cared about.

    "Nickolas!"

    He saw and heard it all in her voice. The trauma, the pain, the fear. . .it was all there. And holding onto her was the man who had caused all of that.

    With cool nonchalance, he stepped into the room. It took all his self control not to cross the space between them and get Cassandra out of that animals grasp. There was no telling what the man might have planned, and if he rushed into this, she could get hurt. He had to take this slowly however much it pained him.

    "Well, well, well," Fulsmith stepped away from Cassandra but kept his hold on her. "You must be that assassin Granger couldn't manage."

    "Let her go." Nickolas repeated, focusing on Fulsmith's face rather than the tears on Cassandra's cheeks.

    "You know, I much have tried to kill you too simply the last time. Honestly, the only way to make sure someone dies properly is to kill them yourself." Fulsmith grinned.

    "Let her go, and I'll let you try." Nickolas raised a brow.

    "Really?" Fulsmith scoffed. "You think I'm that stupid? The only reason you're not charging at me like a bull is because she stands between us, and you can't risk her getting hurt. Am I right?"

    "Why don't you find out?" Nickolas said, aware with every breath of the time that was passing. He didn't have too much longer.

    "Do you really think I'm that stupid?" Fulsmith laughed suddenly. "Look, those men you beat like plaything, did you really imagine that was all I had to protect me? Those buffoons are a dime a dozen, but real men, sporting fellows, well, that's where my specialty is. Yours too, I believe, so I think I'll let you deal with each other."

    Without warning, Fulsmith jerked away from the table, pulling Cassandra with him. Pulling a rope on the wall, Fulsmith smirked as the clang of alarm bells filled the manor. Everyone would know what was going on now, and there would be reinforcement's soon.

    With a vicious kick to the back of her knees, Fulsmith sent Cassandra to the floor. She cried out in pain, and it was all Nickolas could do to refrain from closing the distance between them. He must have moved forward in a somewhat threatening manner, however, for Fulsmith whipped a knife out of nowhere and pressed it into the soft flesh of Cassandra's throat.