Chapter 21 · The Execution Mark

"Put the knife down, or I cut his hand off." The elder pressed a black blade against Kane's palm before Cillian could reach him.

Kane's chair scraped hard across the stone floor. His face had gone pale, but his eyes stayed cold.

"Try it," Kane said. "Then explain to my board why you crippled the man who owns this house."

"You don't own anything tonight." The elder twisted the blade. A thin red line opened across Kane's skin. "Not your name. Not your blood. Not even your heartbeat."

Cillian stepped between them. "Move the knife."

Three guards raised their weapons at once. None of them pointed at Kane. Every barrel aimed at Cillian.

That told him enough.

They hadn't come to kill Kane. They had come to claim him.

The old man looked Cillian up and down. His silver hair was tied at the nape of his neck, neat enough for a boardroom. His black coat had no dust on it, even though half the dinner hall had been torn apart minutes ago.

"So this is the surgeon," the elder said. "The little butcher who crawled back into our city."

"Keep talking," Cillian said.