"You" his mistress seethed, venom lacing her words. The street kid wiggled, dropping to the ground.

"Yes, me" the masked figure mocked, unapologetic "what about?"

"Where is he?" The wild look in her eyes almost halted the man as he inched forward, hoping to catch a certain sneaky assassin by surprise.

"Who?" Asked the thief, feigning confusion.

"You know very well who" she growled, dagger appearing unbidden in her worn and deadly hands. 

The boy shrugged, bringing his hands up in a surrendering gesture. Noticing the shifting weight and tensing muscles just in time, the bodyguard moved to intercept. His mistress dodged the second knife as blade met blade with a resounding clang. The beautiful woman turned, whipping her own weapon through the air, reveling in the resulting cry of pain and tearing flesh. The poor street kid from before lay struggling, pinned to the ground.

The assassin's hesitation at the sight was all he needed. Slashing through the poorly put together cloth, the young man narrowly voided his next strike. A returning blow sent the bodyguard to his knees as the trained thief pushed off harshly against his blade, flipping through the air to hastily mount the nearest steed.

"Oh, you mean your fiancé? That snobby fool of a corpse lying at the bottom of the River Hern?" The assassin called for good measure, galloping away.

"After him!" His mistress screeched, street welp forgotten. The look of pure loathing on her face was enough to spur him into action, even as he realizes she is not the same kind hearted young woman he fell for all those years ago.

"Yes, my lady" came his breathless reply.

While racing through the city, hot on his mistress's heels. He couldn't get the image of her hate-filled features, twisted almost grotesquely with malice- out of his head. It didn't matter though, he told himself. The things he'd done for her already, the lives taken by his own hand...

It's too late to back out now.