"Hayaa!"
Lyra roared, grabbing the rabid wolf by its slobber-soaked head and twisting hard until something snapped with a satisfying crack.
The beast dropped like a sack of rotten meat.
Took her two solid minutes of dodging, punching, and cussing under her breath to wear it down.
She'd been chipping away at its health like peeling a stubborn fruit—bit by bit—until it was too slow, too stupid, and too weak to stop her.
Bryce slid to the side just in time.
A tiger the size of a damn carriage lunged at him with murder in its eyes.
Too bad for it, Alex was already standing there cool as ice, sword planted like a trap.
The beast practically impaled itself, open mouth first, right down the blade. Instant silence.
Both of them stood there, huffing like bulls, eyes darting around the carnage.
The whole battlefield looked like a monster barbecue gone wrong.
Limbs, guts, and dark, oily blood smeared everywhere.
