The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, and the light was faint.
Only a vague mound could be seen on the bed, suggesting someone was sleeping there.
Stepping forward, Arfen Finch raised his gun and aimed at the bedding, unapologetically pulling the trigger.
With the silencer fitted, the pistol didn't make much noise; a few bullets pierced the bedding, then all reverted to silence.
Something's wrong!
Arfen Finch frowned, suddenly reaching out to grab the blanket on the bed, pulling it up.
The blanket was pulled aside, revealing what lay beneath; in the moonlight, two pillows could be vaguely discerned.
Damn!
Cursing under his breath, Arfen Finch realized it was bad, turning to flee.
A dark shape flashed by the bed, accompanied by a fierce swooshing sound, a foot already flying out to kick his calf.
