The assassin, desperate to avoid further punishment, quickly gave up the address. With a dismissive wave, Terrace turned away. "Go. Consider your life a gift from my son."
The assassin dragged himself away, disappearing into the shadows with his unconscious companion. Terrace stood in silence for a moment before turning to Damon. "Come. We have a visit to make."
Damon nodded, wiping the blood from his ears, and followed his father back into the market streets.
~~~~~
In a room almost devoid of light, the two assassins sat across from each other, their faces now revealed in the flickering candlelight. The air felt heavy, and neither spoke for several moments. The first assassin—a wiry man with a jagged scar running down his cheek—broke the silence with a deep, frustrated sigh.
"So?" he asked, his voice low and bitter. "Did you manage to kill the target?"
