She yanked her knife from its sheath. Outside, the cries broke off with a crunch. She reached for the bar again. “Stop.” She froze at the authoritative tone of Sicarius’s voice. “Someone’s dying out there,” she said, more out of a sense of obligation than a genuine desire to open the door. Sicarius walked out of the darkness beneath the stairs. If he had been sleeping, it was not evident. He was fully dressed and armed. “He’s already dead,” Sicarius said. Amaranthe forced her breathing
