When he spots the blood pouring from Merrick’s gut, he looks at me with a snarl and lifts his sword, and that’s enough intent for me. I move faster than he does, fast enough that he’s caught by surprise as I spin and slash my dagger across his throat with ease, a quick and practiced swipe. His sword swings downwards, narrowly missing me before it clatters to the ground, his hands clutching his throat but unable to stop the blood that pours through his fingers in an endless flow.
