194
~Lisa's POV
The man spat on the floor and twisted his body, trying to pull his arm free. Damon's grip was iron. He pivoted, slammed the man against the wall, and threw him to the floor. The sword skittered away and hit the base of the bed, the metal ringing.
I stood frozen. My breath came fast, not from running now but from the shock. Damon was on the man in a second, his hands like steel. He had him pinned, one knee across the man's back, a hand on his throat, the other pinning his wrists.
"Who sent you?" Damon demanded, every sound a strike. His voice was low, dangerous.
The man coughed and spat blood, or maybe it was from the hit he took, I couldn't tell. He choked on the air under Damon's palm. "No one," he rasped. "No name."
"Liar," Damon said. He thrust his face close to the man's, so close I could see the white of his knuckles. His eyes burned like a brand. "Name."
The man gagged and then, with a wet sound, he croaked, "I did this myself."
