88. Prisoner

The sharp dagger slides between ribs and slashes mercilessly. Did it cut through the lung? Did it scrape against the heart? Did it tear and hack and slash?

There is nothing but a blank expression on Demetri's face as he sinks the blade into Killian who is cluessly smiling and talking, a cheerful expression in his face, until it turns to nothing but emptyness. His smile drops and his eyes widen. He might not have even registered the pain his body was suffering. He let's out a wet hiss as he turns slightly to the man behind him.

Everything plays in slow motion after this. I can see the way his knees give in and he has no more power to support himself as he falls on his knees, eyes drifting over the crowd that surrounds him a bit too slow. The spark in his eyes die down as I am hauled over Demetri's shoulder, like nothing but a sack of potatoes.

The screams that leave my throat are nothing compared to the cacophony of sounds that errupt in the whole ballroom. Gunshots, screams and yells.