"Goodbye, kid."
I gritted my teeth, letting my voice shake with desperation. "A-At least tell me why you're trying to kill me?! I'm just an ordinary person—I didn't hurt anyone or do anything worth mentioning! Why are you guys after me?!"
For a moment, the warehouse was silent save for the drip of rainwater through the cracked ceiling. Then Vex smiled, slow and cruel, dragging the flat of his dagger along his tongue in a grotesque parody of savoring a meal.
"Alright," he murmured, stepping closer. "Since you're dying anyway... consider this my gift to you."
The lantern light guttered, casting his face in jagged shadows as he leaned down, his breath reeking of iron and rot.
"The truth is..."
"!"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"You don't matter."
A pause. The knife hovered at my throat.
"But someone paid for your death. And in my line of work, that's reason enough."
My pulse spiked—not from fear.
Paid?
