As soon as the shadow crossed into his line of sight, Garvin thrust his dagger forward, his arm steady, the blade slicing through the narrow space between them. The man's eyes widened in shock as he caught sight of the glinting steel too late to react. The dagger plunged into his stomach with a sickening resistance, sinking deep.
The man let out a strangled scream, staggering back, his hands instinctively clutching at the handle still embedded in his gut. Blood seeped around his fingers as he stumbled, his face twisted in pain and horror.
Garvin's heart raced as he took in the sight of his wounded pursuer, muttering a silent thanks to the gods that the man hadn't been wearing any armor. This would be his only chance. The man, a stocky figure with short brown hair, grimaced as his gaze locked onto Garvin, hatred burning in his narrowed eyes. Blood was soaking through his shirt, dripping from the wound Garvin's blade had left in his abdomen.
