Stopping midway down the stairs, St. Vincent took in the curious tableau before him . . . the clusters of bewildered onlookers, the affronted innkeeper . . . and the Earl of Westcliff, who stared at him with avid bloodlust. The entire inn fell silent during that chilling moment, so that Westcliff’s quiet snarl was clearly audible. “By God, I’m going to butcher you.”
GET HIM MARCUS
