"No," Crim said with an ugly smile. "Owner doesn't like when we get blood out in the main room; attracts flies."
Omar didn't comment on that, but only barely.
Crim's ugly smile took on a meaner edge. "Any final words you'd like us to pass on to the lovely Lady Astira before we kill you?"
He didn't bother to reply to that either, though he burned hot with angermostly at himself, because he should have known they'd still be after her, damn it. They'd probably staked someone at the inn on the chance she'd go there just like always. He was a fucking fool.
Omar slammed the smokebomb he'd palmed earlier to the floor, filling the room with peppersmoke, and fled.
One of them managed to follow him into the hall; Omar kicked him in the gut, slammed him into the wall, and slid a knife into his gut. Bastard should have worn better armor.