The butler lunged.
His fist swung toward my jaw with surprising speed for a man his age, but adrenaline sharpened my reflexes. I ducked under his arm, feeling the wind of the blow brush past my ear. He pivoted, bringing an elbow down toward my shoulder. It grazed me, sending a bolt of pain into the bite wound—but I gritted my teeth and held my ground.
He wasn't just a servant. He was trained.
He grabbed me by the arm and threw me against the wall. The impact sent a burst of white across my vision. Before I could recover, he was already closing in, raising a fist to smash down—
I slid the knife free.
When he swung, I sidestepped and slashed. The blade carved across his forearm, not deep, but enough to make him hiss and recoil. His blood hit the marble floor in bright scarlet drops.
"Y
