Page 83 of Secrets of the Six

After two hours of remaining vigilant, I begin to think I should rethink my assassination plot. But the thought dies the second I detect my mark. My vengeance is refueled, but I'm taken aback when Montenegro stumbles toward his carriage with a man in tow.

Interesting. Perhaps Montenegro doesn't have an eye just for the ladies.

I slip down from my hiding spot and when I make it to street level, I catch a glimpse of the second man's face. I recognize him. It's the warden from the prison.

I grin like a demon. Both men are on my list to kill. Perhaps the Saints are real and they're smiling down on me, offering up these two bastards on one silver platter.

The warden assists a wobbly Montenegro into the buggy. Once the driver slams their door shut, the warden lowers the window as they take off down the street. This is my chance. If I can pull this off, it will be the perfect crime.

I sprint, keeping to the shadows, and zigzag through the alleys to catch up to them before they reach their next destination. I ensure no one is walking on this side of the Night District and when the carriage passes by, I slip out of the darkened lane and hop onto the back of the buggy. Poking my head around the side of the carriage, I wait to see if the driver senses my trespassing presence. When he doesn't, I thrust myself toward the door and with a swiftness that goes undetected by the driver. I dive into the cabin via the open window, draw my guns, and aim the barrels at the two men seated inside.

They both flinch but before they can alert the driver, I pistol whip the warden against his temple before I cock both guns and zero in on Montenegro's chest.

Sweat drips down his flushed cheeks and his bottom lip trembles as he stares down the barrels of my revolvers. He's scared. Good. I want him to be scared at the end.

"What is the meaning of this?" He croaks, his attempts at sounding superior falling dreadfully short.

"Do you remember the night you had me arrested?" I ask point blank, sheathing one of my pistols and claiming the bench across from him, beside the sleeping warden.

"Arrested?" His brows pinch together.

"It seems you talk about me with your peers." I tilt my head to the side in amusement. "I didn't realize you and the warden were well acquainted. Did he tell you how your demand to have me executed for a petty, non-violent crime was overruled? Did he tell you I was released?"

Realization slowly floods Montenegro's face as I speak before a flash of anger sparks.

"He didn't tell you, did he?" I laugh when his shoulders tense. I've rattled him. "Or maybe that's what you two were meeting about tonight. Was he coming to warn you I might be looking for you?"

I see the exact moment hope drains from his face. "What do you want?" he rasps, desperation ripe in his voice. "Money? Jewels?"

A wicked smile slices across my face. "No," I say softly. "What I've come for is far more valuable than your coin or shitty trinkets."

His eyes widen and he swallows hard. "What would that be?" he trembles.

"Why your life, of course." I jerk my chin toward the warden's unconscious body. "And his freedom."

Before he can react, I flick my wrist, and my dagger rams into Montenegro's chest. I lunge for him before he can make a sound, wrench the knife free, and slide the blade across his neck. Blood spills down his chest, staining his white dress shirt. I check his pulse and when none is detected, I drop his arm and take a deep breath.

Now to stage the murder.

I wipe my blade clean with Montenegro's handkerchief before sliding it into its sheath. Taking the warden's knife from the holster on his hip, I smear blood across it before placing it in his hand. What is a crime scene without the murderer being covered in their victim's blood? I make sure to splatter some of Montenegro's blood on the warden's lapel and hands before slipping out the same way I came. I tuck and roll as the carriage keeps clipping onward toward the Golden District. Undetected, I scale to the top of a nearby building and follow the buggy to Montenegro's house where I suppose he and the warden were going to have a nice private chat.

When the carriage pulls up to the entrance, the driver opens the door and screams upon seeing the bloody sight. Alerted to something troubling, servants spill out of the house, followed by the lady of the house, stumbling upon Montenegro's lifeless body and his presumed murderer inside.

I dangle my feet over the edge of a rooftop one street over and watch in glee as they drag the warden out of the carriage. Señora Montengro's screams can be heard across the district. It's a pity she married such a horrid man, but I suppose I did her a service. She's now a very wealthy widow, free from the tainted hands of her much older husband.

The commotion stirs the Black Guard into investigating and when they come onto the scene the driver points an accusatory finger at the warden, spurring them to shackle his ankles and wrists behind his back.

"It wasn't me!" the warden cries out, just stirring back to life. "I swear on my life there was someone else inside the carriage – "

"We didn't stop to let anyone else on or off!" The driver interrupts, not backing down.

"There was a woman! She slipped in through the window – "

"Liar!" the driver screams.

"Take him to the Palace of Justice." The patrol leader snaps his fingers, and two Black Guards haul the warden to his feet and drag him away screaming in protest.

I watch from above, cloaked in shadow, as my makeshift plan to frame the warden for murder works perfectly. I kick my legs back and forth, invigorated by the evening's events.