Smirk glowing across his pale face, the ginger beard tutted. Strolled up to Charlotte, like she was a prized mare he had won at the market and glanced back at Delilah with some sort of devious glint flickering in his eye.
"Delilah..." Charlotte choked out. The knife pressed harder. Trickles of red silked over the blade.
"Don't speak. Don't speak." Delilah held back her own sobs, all the while fighting against the giant arms pinning her back. Her own heart pumped violently. "Please." she blurted. "Please, let her go." The sobs broke through. Her body shook while Charlotte stood frozen, trapped opposite her. The men surrounded them. Guarding every exit. Imprisoning them in that room and behind that knife.
"Which a body ay ye is th' baroness?" Ginger beard's voice was burly, thick venom that scratched at Delilah's ears. The same burly and thick voice that had provoked an entire tavern into a riot. She was terrified, but that terror did not stop her voice. "She is. Let her go...Let her go...please."
He only smirked. More delighted than ever. He took the knife from his friend's hand, allowed Charlotte to breathe, released all fight from Delilah's muscles, then drove the knife along Charlotte's throat. Slow and deep and bloody.
They let her body collapse to the floor. Hollow and small.
"Nae sae bossy noo, ur ye?"
YOU ARE READING
A Bullet Or Two
FantasyWhat would you do if everything you were destined to have was taken away? Delilah Franklyn, the dutiful step-daughter to the Baron of Farhilm, was raised to take his role. Moulded to lead the prosperous East Quarter. Yet when responsibility falls in...
