“Kill anyone you want, heart, especially these bastards. Kill me, if it will make you feel better.” A stone sunk in her stomach, knowing the prophecy. A moment later, she had him against the wall, dagger to his throat. Grim didn’t so much as look at the blade. He only looked at her. Eyes never leaving hers, he reached up and slowly dragged her dagger down his chest, cutting through fabric and skin, until it reached his heart. Then, he patted her hand and said, “Go ahead. It’s yours anyway.”
