Third Person's POV
His gaze barely lingered on her before shifting to the two figures behind her, two black-clad men with their faces grim and each cradling a broken body.
One was Erik, who was barely recognizable beneath the horrifying wound, with his chest rising in shallow, labored breaths, and the other was the assassin, with his limbs twisted at unnatural angles, and his breathing a wet, rattling thing.
Seeing this, a sneer curled the man's lips, and before the others could get more than a glimpse of his naked form, shadows surged from the corners of the room.
They writhed like serpents and then coiled around him.
In seconds, they wove themselves into a dark and luxurious robe that swallowed his sickly-thin frame whole.
The slaps had taken the edge off his fury, but the embers still burned, and he didn't ask for any explanations as he didn't need them.
