What followed wasn't quick.
Wasn't merciful.
The first sound was a blade entering flesh—not the throat, somewhere lower. Darius's grunt of pain and shock.
Then another blade. And another.
Precise strikes, one after another, delivered with cold efficiency.
Darius tried to scream. The sound came out wet, gurgling.
"You didn't think we'd actually let you LIVE, did you?" The unfamiliar voice was almost conversational despite the violence. "You're a traitor. Traitors are USEFUL. But they're not TRUSTWORTHY."
More impacts. More blades finding flesh.
Darius made horrible choking sounds, trying to beg, trying to fight, but the poison that had been promised for the chiefs had clearly been administered to HIM too.
Multiple darts.
His body wasn't responding.
He couldn't fight back.
Couldn't run.
Could only die slowly while his killer explained why.
