Page 105 of Cursed

“Remember,” I whispered, scanning the shadows for movement, “we stick to the plan. In and out.”

“Like shadows in the dark,” Bastian quipped, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Keep your mouth shut and your blade ready,” I growled. We didn’t have time for games—not tonight. “No magic on the grounds.”

Bastian grumbled something I couldn’t hear, but I heard his grunt of surprise as Valen drove his elbow into Bastian’s ribs.

If we were anywhere else, their muttered argument would have been amusing.

“Shut your fucking mouths,” I said through gritted teeth. “Move.”

As we approached the edge of the estate, the opulence of the surroundings felt grotesque—a vile display of the wealth that accompanied Elder Craster’s position on the Sages Council. They were supposed to serve Messana, but these men spent their time enriching themselves while seeking power from the darker forces my father commanded.

Weak. Arrogant. Cowardly.

Hidden lanterns, artfully arranged, illuminated the glistening marble pathways and cast colored light over the carefully cultivated lawns and hedges in the gardens. The slight pressure of protective magic lingered in the air, but Bastian was right—it was weak.

“Two guards by the entrance,” Valen whispered, body tense. He gestured subtly toward the mansion’s main entrance. Footsteps echoed ominously in the stillness as the guards approached. But they weren’t watching the garden—they were talking—laughing.

“Leave them to me,” I said as I pulled my knife from its sheath at the small of my back.

No magic needed for this. Just pure, raw efficiency.

Bastian snorted. “Why do you get all the fun?”

“Shut up,” I muttered, and positioned myself among the shadows, muscles coiled and ready to strike. The thrill of the hunt ignited something primal within me.

The guards were oblivious, distracted by their conversation—betting on an upcoming horse race—one that I already knew had been fixed… He was going to lose a fortune. Death would be a kindness. As they passed by my hiding place, I struck without hesitation, and the blade found flesh with a sickening squelch in the first man’s throat.

He fell like a stone, dead before he hit the ground. Frozen in place, the second man couldn’t react in time, and I thrust my knife into his chest, between his ribs. He gasped, and surprise twisted his features as I guided him to the ground.

“Clean kill,” Bastian remarked, his voice dripping with amusement as he and Valen approached.

“You talk too much,” I said.

“Someone has to,” Bastian retorted.

We advanced further through the garden and the house loomed ahead. As we approached the edge of the garden, I signaled for us to halt. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, heightening my awareness. Shadows danced along the walls and concealed our presence as I observed the guards stationed near the main entrance.

“Two more patrols,” Valen indicated with a subtle gesture, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. His eyes narrowed, reflecting the flickering lanterns.

“Leave that to me,” Bastian replied. Although his mask hid his smile, I could hear it in his voice. “Just keep an eye out for any surprises.”

“There are too many for you,” I said.

Bastian’s pale eyes narrowed. “Fine.”

“On three,” I murmured.

“Always on three,” he replied in a tone that hinted at the infuriating smirk hidden beneath his mask. The corner of my mouth twitched, a flash of irritation, but the moment passed as I counted down in my mind.

“One… Two…”

At three, we surged forward like twin blades slicing through the darkness, moving with lethal precision toward our unsuspecting prey. Each step was calculated, every breath measured. The guards, oblivious to their impending doom, were engaged in a game of cards, and their laughter echoed in the chilly night—until it wasn’t.

Bastian struck first. His blade whispered through the air as it found its mark at the throat of the nearest guard. The man’s eyes widened in shock, his hands instinctively rising to stifle the gurgling sounds escaping his lips. It was a futile effort; death came swift and silent. I was already advancing on the second guard, who turned just in time to see his companion drop to the ground, blood painting the cobblestones a deep crimson.

My dagger kissed the skin beneath his ribs, a cruel intimacy that sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through me. I twisted the blade and relished the flicker of fear in his eyes as his life poured over my hands in a hot rush.

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