Gregory Monroe came to a halting stop in front of the library door.
He knew this house. Knew every room, every wall. He had grown up
here after all. And Monroe knew where he would find him.
Looking down at his arm, he realized for the first time that he was
bleeding. The foot soldiers at the gate had proved more nuisance
than hindrance, but apparently, one had gotten through his guard.
Smiling to himself, he knew it would make little difference in what
was to come. He had waited for this too long.
Opening the door, Monroe found himself facing the man who had taken
his life from him.
"What took you so long, Gregory?" Dominic Le Grange stood with his
back to the fire, casting shadows on the dimly lit walls. His once
familiar face had turned into a mask of pure hatred. "You should
have stayed dead, Gregory. It made life easier for everyone."
Monroe stepped into the room. "You mean it made life easier for
you."
Dominic smiled at him, and Gregory was reminded of their youth.
Back then, he had thought it was a smile of friendship. Now he knew
better. "I think it's time we got this over with, don't you?"
Gregory nodded. "I couldn't agree more."
Dominic tightened his knuckles around the hilt of the sword slung
low at his hip, unsheathing it swiftly and slashed futilely at the
man before him. Gregory met the fight stroke for stroke. "Ah, seems
the art of spending my coin has made you sluggish, old boy." He
lunged forward. Metal clashed vehemently, pressing the men closer
to the uncontrolled flame dancing in the dark, cavernous room.
Dominic reached behind with his free hand, grabbing the poker
resting in the hot coals. Wielding a blow, the scorching heat of
the iron rod pierced the flesh of Gregory’s already bloodied bicep.
"I shall ask your betrothed or....shall I say mine, when you are dead
of course, if the fair lady Alana finds my manner of taking her...
sluggish." His dark eyes gleamed with ominous satisfaction.
Gregory bit back a howl as he dropped to his knees. His arms
splayed lifelessly at his sides; the dizzying agony nearly
unbearable as the pain lanced through his mind, body and soul. The
mere thought of Dominic forcing himself on Alana goaded him to
grasp his last lingering strip of consciousness.
Dominic, sure of his victory, raised his sword high above his head,
both hands firmly on the hilt. Readying himself for the final
stroke, he flashed a cocky smile as he set the blades angle. "I do
believe this is the end."
Gregory spied his enemy under hooded eyes, watching his movements
carefully as Dominic’s sword began its lethal decent. Swiftly,
Monroe swept his hand to his waistcoat, producing a hidden dagger
and plunging it deep within Dominic’s unguarded chest. "For you, my
friend," Monroe gave his weapon one last bone crushing twist, "Now
it is over, once and for all."
