The assassins tensed, their bodies aching but their minds racing.
"It's that you keep trying," Lyerin said, letting out a laugh that echoed through the trees like a haunting melody. "Despite everything—despite your utter lack of hope, your glaring weaknesses, your predictable strategies—you keep going. It's endearing, in a way. Like watching children play at being warriors."
Miriam's eyes darted to Donovan, then to Mikhail, and finally to Theran. They all caught her gaze, understanding flickering in their expressions. The Younger Woman, clutching her side, gave a barely perceptible nod.
Lyerin continued his speech, his hands gesturing theatrically as if addressing an invisible audience. "You see, that's what separates me from you. I don't fight because I have to. I don't fight because I'm desperate or because I fear death. No, I fight because I enjoy it. I revel in it. And that, my dear little Borgias assassins, is what makes me unstoppable."
