Bennett stood in the icy night air behind the house, her eyes fixed on the footsteps in the snow leading to the keep. She chuckled under her breath as she trudged through the snow to the tower, and upon reaching the door, she stopped to listen for a moment. Bennett could hear the soft ping of icy flakes falling around her and the heartbeats of forest life, foraging for food, yet behind the slab of wood, it was quiet. Bennett opened the door and stepped into the keep.

From Fallon’s photographs, the keep had appeared like those in medieval times. Stone and mortar covered the exterior, and Bennett had expected to find the same inside, but the walls were nothing more than plywood and timber erected to hold the faux stonework.

The spiral stairs were barely wide enough for one, and sliding her swords into her scabbard, Bennett pulled out two daggers and ascended. She crept slowly and lightly on the dry wooden steps, forever listening for a sound or a heartbeat, and it wasn’t long before both reached her ears.

Napoleon was bouncing to and fro in front of one of the minuscule apertures in the keep, trying his best to see the ground below. “Where the fuck are they?” he said, repeatedly pushing the button on the remote. “The fucking things are trained to come when I call them and—”

“In order for them to do that, their ears have to be attached to heads still connected to bodies, and alas, that’s not the case,” Bennett said, reaching the landing. “Your army has gone the way of the dinosaur, Napoleon, which means the only thing standing between you and me…is dear old Ivan.”

Bennett gave Napoleon a moment to let it sink in before turning to Ivan. “I don’t normally take pleasure, genuine pleasure in killing anyone, but for you, Ivan, I fear, I’m about to make an exception.”

“We’ll see about that, you fucking cunt.” Ivan let loose of his broadsword, and as it fell to the floor, he whipped two daggers from his belt and let them fly.

Bennett stepped out of the way of the first, but by doing so, the second sunk into her left thigh up to its hilt. She winced at the pain, a grunt slipping from her lips, and then with eyes blazing blue, she yanked the dagger out. “And now it’s my turn,” she said, tossing it aside.

Ivan barely had time to retrieve his broadsword before Bennett was upon him. In a vise-like grip, she wrapped her hand around his throat, and as she lifted him two feet off the floor, the sword slipped from his grasp.