Another coughing fit cut off his words, and more blood dribbled down the sides of his fingers, even though he tried to hide it from me.

Fletcher looked at me, his green eyes searching mine. “Can you do it, Gin? Are you ready for this?”

I stared at the knife still clutched in his hand. The silverstone gleamed like a sharp star in the semidarkness. I’d killed people before. Buried men in the falling stones of my childhood home. Stabbed a giant to death inside the Pork Pit. And I’d watched Fletcher kill a dozen more.

But this—this was different. Before, I’d lashed out at the others in the heat of the moment. Because they’d threatened me, hurt me, and I’d just been defending myself. But tonight I’d come here knowing that Delov would die. I just hadn’t thought that I’d be the one to do it.

It was one thing to watch—it was another to twist the knife in coldly myself.

Maybe—maybe I wasn’t as ready to be an assassin as I thought I was.

But there was nothing to be done about that paralyzing thought. No changing it, no fixing it, no time to think about it. Because it was him or us now, and I’d pick us every single time, no matter what it cost me in the end.

I hesitated a moment longer, then took the weapon from Fletcher. “I can do it.”

“I know you can,” he whispered back.

“Come on,” I said, helping him to his feet. “I’ll help you find someplace to hide. Then I’ll go look for Delov.”

Fletcher nodded, in too much pain to do anything else. I put my arm under his shoulder again and led him deeper into the house, back toward Delov, ready to do what needed to be done . . .

My eyes fluttered open, and it took me a few seconds to remember where I was. That I was safe in bed in Fletcher’s house and not being stalked by a giant with a gun and a grudge. I let out a breath, trying to calm my racing heart and banish the rest of the memories. Slowly, far too slowly, they finally faded away.

I didn’t know what had triggered this specific memory of Fletcher and Delov. It certainly wasn’t the worst one I had. In fact, it was pretty mild compared with some of the other things I’d seen, done, and been through over the years. But something about that night felt particularly important—and ominous, almost like it was a warning of things to come.

I wasn’t an Air elemental, so I never got any glimpses of the future, not like Jo-Jo did. But I couldn’t help but think that something was stirring all the same. Something dark, something dangerous, something that might finally be the death of me.