Page 42 of Crowned In Venom

And I am not afraid.

The assassin lunges again, this time lower, sharper.

I let them come.

At the last second, I sidestep, my body twisting just enough to avoid the blade.

Their own momentum works against them.

I seize the opening.

My hand snaps forward, catching them by the throat.

A single, brutal movement and they are slammed against the nearest wall.

Their body bucks, struggles.

I press harder.

The dagger clatters to the marble floor.

Only then do I look at them—truly look.

And I see nothing.

Their face is covered by a dark mask, fabric wrapped tight over their mouth, their eyes black pools of hatred.

Trained to kill.

Trained to die without speaking.

How disappointing.

I lean in, my fingers tightening just enough to make them panic.

"Who sent you?" My voice is calm. Unrushed.

Their pulse flutters beneath my palm.

They say nothing.

They are expecting mercy.

They will receive none.

I press harder, watching their hands claw at my wrist, their body fighting for air.

Good.

I hold them just long enough—just long enough for them to believe they are about to die.

Then I release them.

They collapse, gasping, dragging in air like a drowning man.

I step back, watching them struggle.

They should be grateful.

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