Liam picked Clark up from the ground. The fight was over. Both of them had already retracted their wings, and the night air felt heavier as silence fell over the battlefield. Clark's spirit was shattered. His breathing was slow and ragged, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and his gaze empty. There was no more fight left in him.
Liam gripped his neck tightly, raising one hand into the air. His knuckles cracked. The intention was clear—one sharp smack and Clark's neck would snap. His grip tightened. The muscles in his arms flexed with quiet fury. His eyes were cold.
But just before his hand came down, a shout rang out from the distance.
"Stop!!!" Vanessa's voice echoed with urgency.
Liam turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he saw her rushing toward him. She was still injured, her movements slow and wincing, but she pushed herself forward regardless. Her face was pale, her lips trembling, but there was a fire behind her eyes—desperation.
