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“Go, the lot of you to Clan MacLeish. I have no fight with you,” The Monk commanded from the darkness and the four wounded men didn’t hesitate.

The large man turned to run and stopped, a dark, looming shadow almost blending with the night blocking his way.

“Tell me what I want to know, and I may let you live.”

“I have no quarrel with you, Monk,” the large man said with a distinct quiver in his voice.

“Good, then you will tell me what I want to know.”

“Anything. Anything, just ask me,” the large man said anxiously.

“Is Asher looking for me?” When no response was forthcoming, The Monk said, “I will not tolerate silence from you.”

The man never saw it coming. The sudden pain and the warmth running down his face was the only indication of the slash to his cheek. He pressed the edge of his cloak to the wound to stop the bleeding.

“Asher is a madman. He will kill me if I betray him.”

“I am believed to be a madman as well, so I would worry more about the madman who stands in front of you than the one who is not here,” The Monk warned.

The large man didn’t need to think about it. He responded quickly, “Asher does search for you.”

“What does he want with me?”

The man almost hesitated than thought better of it. “He wants to see the mission finished.”

“What mission?”

“I don’t know the whole of it. I only know your wife, Amara, was meant to die.”

That took Quint by surprise, the darkness of night hiding his shock. “Are you saying Amara, was the target from the start, not me?”

“Aye, your wife was meant to die, not you,” the man confirmed. “Then the mission changed and now, it’s you Asher seeks, though I don’t know why.”

Quint felt numb. Why did someone want Amara dead? Shade had been right in her thought that Amara’s death had everything to with her and nothing to do with him. He had not asked Amara about her life before he met her, and she did not ask about his. There was no reason to. That they were together was all that had mattered to him. So, what in her past had caused her to be killed?

Something else troubled Quint. “You talk about betraying Asher and not knowing why he wants me dead, yet you know my wife by name and know she was meant to die, which means you had to be one of the men there that day. You are one of the men who took part in her killing. The last man I have yet to kill.”

The large man felt his urine run warm down his leg. “I don’t want to die.”

“Either did my wife. Did she plead with you not to kill her?”

“She told us we’d be sorry that you loved her as much as she loved you and that you would hunt every one of us down and make every one of us suffer before you ended our worthless lives. I believed her and walked away.”

Amara knew she would die, and she made sure to let him know that she loved him and knew that he loved her. Quint couldn’t hide his rage. It sounded in his every word. “You left the task to the others.”

“There was no stopping it. Asher ordered her dead and no one disobeyed him, or they would wind up dead themselves.”

“So, all of you were cursed one way or the other. You either die by Asher’s hand if you didn’t obey him or die by mine for killing my wife. That means you are all fools and don’t deserve to live.”

“Wait! Wait!” the large man said, stretching his arm out as if his splayed hand was enough to stop The Monk. “I have information I’ve been sworn to keep. Let me live and I will tell you.”

“You’ll tell me anyway,” Quint said and stepped forward.

The large man rushed his words out. “Nay! Nay! I heard Asher say who is responsible for your wife’s death.”

“Who?” Quint demanded.

The man hurried to tell him. “The healer, Shade.”