In the many months Damen had known Dutch, he had never heard from her a laugh like that. It caught under his skin as surely as the knife upon his throat and he swallowed tightly, unease winding hotter in his belly.

Once again, Damen considered his options. He had no weapon within easy range, no blade or even blunt object. If this Dutch was anything like the one he considered a friend, her training was extensive. Damen would have a single chance to defend himself and strike in return, and likely not much more.

His fingers twitched at his side, head dropping back to avoid the sharp edge of the blade even as bit into his skin.

'You're dead the minute he steps through the door,' Damen said, his eyes still on hers. 'He's ruthless. He'll kill you without a thought.'