The red warning pulsed in Nico's vision like a dying heartbeat while counting down the seconds of his remaining life.
119… 118…
While the tip of the bloody arrowhead grazed the skin of his throat, drawing a bead of blood that slowly trickled down his neck.
Arlath was savoring it, withholding his full strength, enjoying the terror radiating from Nico's wide, trembling eyes as he slowly increased the pressure.
"What's the matter, kid?" Arlath sneered with his face inches from Nico's. "Where's that arrogance Luger talked about? Where's that fancy dragon?"
"Beg," Arlath whispered with a voice dripping in sadistic pleasure. "Beg, and I might make it quick."
And that command snapped something within Nico.
The sheer audacity of the word acted like a bucket of ice water being dumped directly onto his shock-addled brain.
