The sound of drops of blood against the floor pulses through the silence like a grim metronome. One of Ja'far's hands is wrapped around (y/n)'s trembling ones that still hold the knife. Hands that are holding it so hard that blood from her reopened cuts drips from her hands. His other arm is holding (y/n) to his chest.

"Don't." A single word from him breaks the silence.

"How did you-"

"Don't."

Tears run down her face, and the sound they make as they hit the floor jolts the bloody metronome from its tempo. Then, she heaves out her secret.

"I wasn't sent here to kill that assassin. I was sent here to kill you."