11
Ambros Falk was not in a good place. There was blood on his shoes and maybe a piece of flesh. He did not really like this part. It was necessary, but he did not enjoy it the way Rath did. That man seemed to revel in the smell and feel of blood. To Ambros, it was just good business.
Ambros turned back to the chair where the half-alive body of what had been a former business partner slowly bled to death. Rath stood above him, blood dripping from his red, wet hands. His tall, gaunt body showed no signs of exertion, although he had just spent the last ten minutes progressing from simple beating to ripping out the man's intestines and playing with them in front of him. His mouth, too wide for his face, was split into a maniacal grin.
Ambros had the horrible idea the Rath was using
