“Slide your knife past the ribs. Straight into the heart. Think you can do that?” he asked. “Don’t tempt me.” “It’s not a joke. There’s no point in you having these knives if you aren’t going to use them. Could you kill a man, Cross?” My eyes lifted to his. “If I must.” He leaned in closer, my knife pressing into that vest. The material resisted still, showing no weakness.
