Breaking3: Out Of The Frying Pan, Into The Freezer
My tongue is a useless lump of flesh in the center of my mouth. I can actually feel it getting heavier by the second, since it's drying up kinda fast.
"I'll repeat but one more time," Haytham says, taking a step closer and raising his knife-decked wrist. All the blood in my face makes a mad dash for my stomach.
"How do you know of the Templar Order?"
There are precisely three lonely thoughts drifting aimlessly through my head right now- all else has been obliterated. These thoughts are:
One- he is not fooling around.
Two- I have no reasonable explanation for why I know that.
Three- he will probably kill me if I don't say something within the next ten seconds.
And then of course there's the last one, which is just this really, really strong urge to cry. But I'm trying my best not to acknowledge that one.
Mister Kenway is watching my face with every bit of scrutiny. God, what do I look like to him? I feel absolutely terrified. The fire is a distant memory belonging to somebody else.