The alley burned with tension.
Kael's stun gun let off faint trails of smoke, the battery indicator pulsing red.
Seris stood beside him, blood on her hands, on her sleeves, on her cheek.
They had taken down a dozen men—maybe more. Limbs were broken. Knives lost. Bones shattered. The ambush was a failure. But it wasn't over.
Not yet.
Three more figures came forward.
One was broad-shouldered, wielding a war pick like it weighed nothing.
The second moved low and hunched, with twin daggers and a feral grin.
The third was quiet—too quiet—with the build of a butcher and the scars of a man who'd survived real wars.
Kael's jaw tightened. He could feel it—these three were different. Not just stronger. Trained.
"Stay sharp," he muttered.
Seris didn't answer. She just shifted her stance, ready.
