The shade slid into the shop with ease, held tight in his grasp a dagger crafted by none other than the young Irishmen himself. Why the blacksmith had taken Davey back was beyond the shadowy man. But after he was given a kill order and after the client explained what was occurring in this hellhole, he did not even bother to investigate. If Davey was in danger, he was going to take care of it.

The drunken man had sobered the slightest amount, but not enough to sense the coming danger. The assassin slid up behind him, placing the dagger to his throat. No mercy shined in the mahogany gems that the sneak called eyes.

“Vos crimina commiserunt irremissibile,” he hissed in Latin. “Te iudico nunc.” And with a swift movement, a life was taken, and a heavy body sunk to the floor. The assassin sheathed his weapon, stalking over to Davey and slinging him over his shoulder.

“You are a very stupid boy, Davey,” Gavin said lowly. “Verumtamen ego amo te.”