"Ha... Ha... Ha..."
The sound was faint, almost broken, drifting through the stillness of the night like a dying echo.
Alexandra breathed heavily, her gaze fixed on the moon.
The pale light reflected in her eyes, which were empty for a moment, as if she were trying to cling to something that was no longer there.
Her hair was stained with blood, as was her wounded body; her chest rose and fell violently. All around her, the bodies of the assassins littered the ground like dry leaves.
Some still wore expressions of surprise—others, of sheer terror. None had had a chance to escape.
The night breeze carried a metallic stench mingling with the smell of blood in the air.
It was thick. Sticky. You could almost taste it with every breath.
"Ha..."
Alexandra took a sharp breath and exhaled, controlling her ragged breathing as she endured the pain of her wounds. They burned as if they were a living fire searing her flesh.
