Chapter Text
“I’m sorry, run that by me again.”
Cian glowered at him. “I hadn’t realized you’d gone deaf, Disciple. Let. Her. Die.”
The Sith “assassin” was painfully frail, her body a catalog of scars. Mical wanted to say I refuse to take the life of a helpless patient but settled on, “We cannot interrogate a corpse, Exile.”
“Very well. Keep her alive long enough to be interrogated.”
Mical found himself shivering. He had not felt the Force for a long time. Yet, he could sense Cian’s aura - a dark, heavy cloud. He was afraid – and not of the defeated Sith.