Wolves and Assassins

I’ll admit, I went into *Wolves and Assassins* expecting another by-the-numbers dark fantasy, but Webb’s novel grabbed me by the throat in the first chapter and didn’t let go. The setup is deceptively simple: a mercenary, a king, a forest, a killer. But the execution is anything but. Corin an Fol isn’t your typical brooding assassin—he’s pragmatic to the point of ruthlessness, and his past isn’t some tragic backstory dumped in clunky exposition. It’s a live wire, sparking in the background until it detonates in the second act. The pacing is *brutal* in the best way, with Webb doling out reveals like a dealer cutting a deck—just when you think you’ve got the measure of the game, the rules change. McDermott’s performance is a masterclass in restraint. He doesn’t overplay the grittiness; instead, he lets the text’s inherent tension dictate the rhythm. His Corin is a man who’s tired of killing but excellent at it, and that weariness seeps into every line. My only critique? The female characters occasionally feel underdeveloped—more chess pieces than players—which is a shame in a story so sharp about power dynamics. And while the forest setting is atmospheric, I wished for more sensory immersion; the audiobook’s production is clean but almost *too* sparse, missing opportunities for ambient sound to heighten the dread. Still, these are quibbles. For fans of *The Blade Itself*’s moral ambiguity or *The Lies of Locke Lamora*’s twisty betrayals, this is a must-listen. Just don’t start it before bed—you’ll be listening for the snap of a bowstring in the dark.