Elira didn't even get the chance to catch her breath after all the shit talking.
CRACK.
Fina's open palm lit across her cheek like lightning, snapping her head to the side with a wet, brutal sound.
"You've got spine, I'll give you that," Fina hissed, her claws twitching. "Saying that kind of shit right here, in front of me… in front of them."
She gestured to the besastkins in the room—the battered, proud, punished, obedient—and to the broken elder fox still panting on the floor like a heat-drunk animal.
Elira flinched.
But she didn't apologize.
CRACK.
Another slap. Harder. This time her lip split, a line of red blossoming across her mouth. She wobbled, her grip on Allen's leg slipping as she let out a gasp of pain.
Fina raised her hand again, eyes blazing with fury.
But Allen's voice sliced through the room like a guillotine made of silk.
"That's enough."
Fina stopped.
