Page 68 of Dark Elf Makes Five

The dagger slides beneath his nail with surgical precision. The man's scream echoes through the warehouse as blood wells up around the steel, but I maintain steady pressure, working the blade deeper.

"The name of your employer," I repeat calmly, twisting the knife slightly. "Or we continue."

"I don't—ahhhh—I don't know any names!"

I withdraw the blade and examine it critically, wiping the blood clean on his shirt sleeve before moving to the next finger.

"Unfortunate answer."

This time I don't stop at the nail. The dagger slides between the joints of his index finger, separating bone from bone with practiced efficiency. His screams reach a pitch that makes the younger kidnapper flinch violently against his bonds.

"Stop! Please, stop!" The second man's voice cracks with terror. "We never met her directly! Everything went through intermediaries!"

I pause, the bloodied blade hovering over the older man's remaining fingers. "Her?"

"A noble lady! Dark elf, like you! She paid through a broker in the port district—we never got a real name!"

The older kidnapper spits blood and glares at his companion with murderous rage. "Shut your mouth, you spineless⁠—"

I drive the dagger through his palm, pinning his hand to the wooden crate with a wet thunk. His words dissolve into incoherent howling.

"Continue," I tell the younger man, my voice perfectly conversational despite the gore spreading across my fingers.

"She—she wanted the children taken alive. Unharmed, she said. Just leverage to make you do something. We were supposed to send word when we had them secure."

"What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know! The broker said she'd contact you directly with demands!"

I twist the embedded blade, and fresh screams fill the air. "Think harder."

"She mentioned—gods, please—she mentioned something about your title! Your estate! That's all I know, I swear on my mother's grave!"

I wrench the dagger free and move to crouch beside the younger man, whose face has gone pale as parchment.

"Describe her. Everything you remember."

"Tall, elegant. Silver hair in elaborate braids. Expensive clothing, jewelry. She had this way of looking at people like they were insects." His words tumble out in a desperate rush. "The broker called her Lady Something-or-other, but I never caught the full name. She paid half up front, promised the rest when the job was done."

I clean the blade again, considering my next move. The information confirms my suspicions, but I need more details about her network, her resources, her next planned move.

"Please," the younger man whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks. "We told you everything. You said you'd consider mercy."

I study both men for a long moment—the older one still defiant despite his mutilated hand, the younger one broken and pleading. Neither has any further value alive, but their deaths can still serve a purpose.

"You're right," I say finally. "I did mention mercy."

"Did you send word to her?" I ask, wiping the blade clean on the younger man's shirt. "Your employer—did you tell her the children were secure?"

The younger kidnapper nods frantically. "Yes! We sent a messenger as soon as we arrived. She's supposed to come here tonight for proof they're alive before making her demands."

Perfect. The trap sets itself.

I glance at Draven, who gives an almost imperceptible nod of understanding. Everything falls into place—the children safe at home, Kessara under guard, and Selmyra walking directly into my hands.

"When?" I press the dagger's tip against his throat, just enough to draw a bead of blood.

"Twilight! She said twilight, when the streets empty and fewer people notice carriages moving through the district."