Page 133 of The Dragon and the Dove

Caruso seethed, yanking him up by his collar. ‘Ren, you sneaky prick. There goes our beautiful friendship.’

A Dagger, then.

‘What’s he paying you to turn on your own?’ said Caruso.

Ren was too busy choking on his own blood to respond.

‘Who’s the target, Ren? The big grand prize?’

When he didn’t answer, Caruso rolled him over, and clapped him on the back hard enough to dislodge a lung. Gasping for air, Ren squalled, ‘The saints!’ He gestured weakly in Val’s direction. ‘Her.’

Suddenly the parade made a hell of a lot more sense. It was the perfect distraction, a way for the Silver-tongue’s assassins to pick them off one by one.

Val picked up her crossbow and pointed it at the spitting Dagger. ‘How many of you are there?’ she demanded.

When he didn’t reply, Caruso shook him by his collar. ‘Don’t be fucking rude, Ren. Answer the pretty saint.’

He spat a glob of blood directly into Caruso’s face.

‘I’m going to shoot you just for that,’ said Val.

‘There’s no one else,’ Ren ground out. ‘Only me.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Liar.’

‘Over the roof you go,’ said Caruso, dragging Ren by his bootlaces. He had only made it three strides when two more Daggers swung in from the next building and alighted on the roof. They hurled their knives in unison.

Val screamed. ‘CARUSO!’

Caruso dodged the first. The second bit into his shoulder. He howled in pain.

Val fired the crossbow. The arrow struck the first Dagger – a tall flame-haired woman – in her thigh. She doubled over, cursing.

The second Dagger, a wiry bald man, threw up his hands, revealing a tapestry of menacing dark whorls. ‘Wait—’

Caruso’s answering knife landed right in the apple of his throat. Blood erupted from the Dagger’s mouth as he collapsed.

Val reloaded her crossbow as the redhead gathered her strength. Caruso was already coming for her, drawing another knife from his waistband.

Ignoring the arrow in her thigh, the Dagger yanked the blade from her partner’s throat and sank into a crouch. ‘Don’t forget who taught you how to spar, mad one.’

‘That’s how I learned to best you, Marishka.’

They circled each other like alley cats.

The fight was fast and violent. Caruso was quicker, and a hell of a lot angrier, though the red-haired assassin, Marishka, held her own.

‘How do you want it?’ Caruso taunted. ‘Another arrow in that black heart, or a one-way trip to the cobbles below?’

‘You always did love to talk dirty,’ she purred. ‘Don’t forget who taught you that too.’

‘That was a long time ago, Marishka.’

She peeled her lips back. ‘I bet you still think about it.’

‘Fuck this.’ Val fired another arrow. It nicked Marishka’s cheek, making her jerk her head back. Caruso lunged, grabbing her by the collar. ‘You know the rules, Marishka. Live by the dagger.’

‘Die by the dagger,’ she grunted.