Page 90 of Blood & Snow
He shakes his head frantically.
"I can't. They'll kill me."
"I'll kill you faster."
Behind me, Nadya makes a small sound.
Not quite a gasp, but close.
I glance back to see her face pale, hands pressed against her mouth.
She's seen the aftermath of violence but never witnessed the moment of death itself.
"Go,Ptichka," I tell her, but the courier tries to run then, scrambling along the wall toward the dead end.
Desperation makes people stupid.
I catch him in three strides, my hand tangling in his coat collar.
He spins to face me, the satchel swinging wide, and I have to move now or risk losing him.
The knife goes between his ribs on the left side, angled upward toward his heart, a clean thrust that punctures thelung and severs major blood vessels.
He gasps once, a wet sound that bubbles with blood, then goes limp in my grip.
Crimson drips on the snow into a puddle as I withdraw the blade.
The courier's body crumples, dark liquid spreading beneath him and staining the white ground blackish-red.
Nadya's scream catches in her throat, trapped behind her hands.
She stumbles backward until her shoulders hit the alley wall, eyes wide and fixed on the expanding pool of blood.
The sound she makes is raw, animalistic—pure human horror at witnessing death created rather than discovered.
I ignore her shock and focus on business because people will notice soon enough and I can't waste time.
The satchel contains what I expected—bundled cash in various denominations, coded documents detailing financial transfers, and a list of names I recognize as Brotherhood associates.
Valuable intelligence that will help me trace them back to locations where I can finish this.
The cash alone represents weeks of their operations.
Enough to fund safe houses, weapons purchases, bribes to corrupt officials.
Taking it will force them to adjust their timeline, maybe make mistakes in their desperation to replace the funding.
"Victory," I tell Nadya without looking up from the papers.
"This is everything we need." I wait for a response but get one.
When I look up and see her, I reach for her.
But she doesn't move, frozen against the wall with her hands still covering her mouth.
The color has drained from her face entirely.
Her pupils are dilated, breathing rapid and shallow.
