King makes a gagging noise behind me, but I don’t stop shoving until the finger is wedged into his throat.
Yanking the cloth free, I close my hand over his mouth. And use my other hand to pinch his nose shut.
Arthur’s eyes are bulging up at me.
Frantic.
Begging.
Terrified.
His hands are ineffectively scratching at my shirt, and when his eyes are on the verge of rolling back, I remove my hands, giving him the briefest glimpse of hope before I throw my fist into the front of his throat. Collapsing his trachea.
He blinks––soundlessly––up at me. His mind doesn’t seem to understand that he’s already dead.
CHAPTER 28
Nero
The chair rocks slightly as King uses it to shove himself up. “Man, that was an uncomfortable way to hold someone down. I think I pulled a muscle.”
I ignore King.
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