Page 58 of Knot Their Princess

When I leave the room, I close the door behind me, even though I broke the latch entering it. Just some semblance of security.

I don’t know.

But when there’s rapid fire downstairs, I rush to the stairway, weapon readied with a fresh clip.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Garen

Ground floors are nice and easy. Truly. Being assigned to this level is like a gift.

I hadn’t even bothered with stealth, armed to the teeth, armor on all the vital spots except for my head—I mean, honestly, why would I deprive these people of a beautiful final sight before I grant them eternal rest? I’m not as much of a monster as they are.

I’d used a battering ram on the ornate front door, splintering it and swinging it wide open, then dropping the ram on the threshold, armed and ready as I crossed it.

Two O’Clock.

I turn and fire.

Stairway.

Fire again.

Nine O’Clock.

Fire, fire.

Ahh. Nothing like the sound of firearms in the dead of night. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

Semi-auto at twelve.

I strafe and roll to my left just as the rifle rapid-fires, spraying the entryway I just rolled out of. I fire back, first shot hitting the wall, second pegging his straight in the eye. Once he’s down, I rush over and scoop up his weapon with a smile.

Now, this gets fun.

Indeed.

I begin my sweep, through the kitchen, checking every room down here, until another shot is fired at me, and I pump the guard full of rounds, laughing hysterically as his body dances from the impacts on its way to the floor.

The final room I check, I open with gusto, and am greeted with a scream and pistol fire. I’ve already got the rifle trained before I realize the prize I’ve won.

“Hag!” I cry gleefully, approaching her shocked and confused face before I smack her in the temple with the butt of the rifle, and she crumples to the ground.

Grabbing her by the arm, I drag her dead weight into the living room.

Should have made her walk at gunpoint.

Ah, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Besides, she’s just a little old geezer.

As I’m about to unceremoniously drop her arm, Cade makes his way down the stairs, eyes my new toy, then the hag, his expression turning impressed. When he looks back at me, I grin. “Mind getting a chair from the dining room?” I nod my head to the doorway leading to the fancy tables and chairs, and Cade wordlessly does as I ask. Then, together, we plop the hag’s arse on the chair, and I use a spool of rope from my pack to secure her to it and keep her sitting upright.

Once I’ve finished, the hag lets out a pained groan to go with the purple bruise on the side of her head.

Every time I’ve seen her, she’s been so put together. Tonight, however, she looks like hell. And I realize that she had before I even got her.

I snap my fingers in front of her face repeatedly until her eyes open, taking a beat before they zero in on me with such loathing, my smile widens. “Wakey-wakey,” I sing.

“Time for you to talk.” Cade stands beside me, handgun aimed at her head. “Or don’t. Your choice.”