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... Lara was sleeping. She had been silent during the journey, and her body signalled peace.

He had assumed she was tired, but she returned his glance with a smile.

«We're here,» he said.

Stating the obvious helped him gain some security, and he desperately needed something to say.

Lara didn't reply, but her eyes swept over his face, caressing his lips a little too insistently for it to be by chance. Still, she didn't bend forward to kiss him, nor did she close her e ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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