Cian doesn’t say a word as he gives me his blade.
Snatching the knife from his hand, I walk around Sean and hack through the ropes at his wrists and ankles. Before he gets any ideas to flee, I stab him in the shoulder. It’s a flesh wound as experience has taught me where to stab someone if I want to kill them—femoral artery, neck, heart.
This would merely tickle.
But as Sean sags forward, winded, I realize tickle is maybe underplaying it a wee bit.
Gripping him by the back of the neck, I walk him to where the end of the rope hangs and roughly yank his arms behind his back, not bothered that his elbow is broken and he has a knife sticking out of his shoulder.
Once his wrists are tied tight, I pick up the other end of the rope and smile. We lock eyes, and I’ll give it to him, he doesn’t
