Rescue

The instant his first blow landed, he did not pause. Power flowed through his wrist, and the dagger stirred cruelly inside the body before he yanked it out and stabbed several more times in quick succession. His movements were clean and sharp, carrying the cold efficiency unique to a veteran.

Warm blood instantly gushed from the wound, staining Webber's hands and the bedsheet beneath him red.

The tall, thin man only had time to let out a few short wails. His body convulsed violently a few times, then went completely limp and still.

The young woman pinned underneath turned her head in terror, only to meet Webber's face, splattered with flecks of blood and cold as iron, and the blood-dripping dagger in his hand.

She was so frightened her entire body went rigid. Tears streamed silently down her face, but she bit down hard on her lip, not daring to make the slightest sound.

Webber raised his bloodstained finger, held it to his lips, and made an extremely stern "silence" gesture at her.

The woman nodded desperately, her eyes filled with fear, but also with a trace of dazed bewilderment at surviving a dead end.

The commotion here had been brief, but the sounds of flesh colliding, deathbed wails, and furniture toppling were still clearly audible on the deathly silent second floor.

Sure enough, in the third room next door, the regular, nauseating creak of the bedboards came to an abrupt halt!

In its place came a burst of panicked heavy thuds and footsteps. Clearly, the man inside had been alarmed and was getting off the bed.

Webber gently moved off the dead thug, slid off the bed without a sound, and held the dagger horizontally before him like a venomous snake coiled to strike, slowly moving to the doorway