Derek looked at the assassin one last time. The man was slumped against the wall, weeping with relief.
"You are free," Derek said. "Once your son is treated, you will leave the city. Never return."
The Shadow guard stepped forward. "I will handle it, Your Grace."
Derek nodded. "Get a dead body to replace him. Clear every information about him and take his son to the estate infirmary. Treat the boy. And," he added, "get me a cooling ointment. Fast."
The Shadow bowed and vanished into the darkness to execute the orders.
Derek walked out of the cell. The dungeon corridor was dim, lit only by a few sputtering torches. Marissa was waiting for him, leaning against the cold stone wall. She looked exhausted. Her dress was rumpled, her hair a mess, and the angry red mark on her neck was a stark reminder of how close she had come to death.
But she was alive.
Derek walked up to her. He took her hand, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles.
"I'm done with him," Derek said, his voice quiet.
