The air on the battlefield grew heavy as the fight between Cassian and Adrian reached a fever pitch. Wolves and vampires alike watched in tense silence, their gazes fixed on the two combatants as they circled each other, bloodied and battered but unyielding. The stakes were impossibly high, the outcome uncertain as the two warriors continued to clash with ferocious intensity.
On the sidelines, Isla gripped Draven’s arm, her silver eyes wide with worry. Her voice trembled as she whispered, “He’s going to kill him, Draven. Cassian won’t stop until Adrian is dead.”
Draven’s jaw tightened, his amber eyes fixed on the fight. “Cassian knows what he’s doing,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. The sight of his daughter standing so close to the battlefield only added to his unease.
The Vampire King, meanwhile, looked far less entertained. His crimson eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his seat, his lips curling into a frown. The fight, which had begun as a source of amusement, was quickly becoming tedious.
“If you’re not going to end it, Adrian,” the King called out, his tone sharp, “perhaps I should.”
Adrian’s gaze flickered toward the King for the briefest moment, and Cassian seized the opportunity. With a roar, he barreled into Adrian, his claws slamming him into the ground with bone-rattling force.
Adrian let out a grunt of pain, his body arching under the impact as the dirt and blood smeared across his face.
“Stay down, leech,” Cassian growled, his voice low and threatening as he pressed his claws against Adrian’s chest, ready for the final strike. His amber eyes burned with the promise of vengeance, his muscles taut with the anticipation of the kill.
But Adrian wasn’t finished. Gritting his teeth, he twisted his body with a sudden burst of speed, slipping out from under Cassian’s grip and rolling to his feet.
Blood dripped from his mouth as he stood, his movements unsteady but defiant. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, his crimson eyes blazing with determination.
“Not yet,” Adrian said, his voice low but steady. His tone carried a quiet strength, the kind that made even the most confident opponents hesitate.
Cassian snarled, his claws flexing as he prepared to strike again. The two fighters circled each other, their breaths ragged, their bodies battered but unwilling to yield. The tension in the air was suffocating, every onlooker frozen as they waited for the next move.
Lyra, standing near Isla and Draven, clutched her cloak tightly, her silver eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the fight, every blow and every movement carving deeper lines of worry into her expression.
“Adrian,” she whispered under her breath, though no one could hear her over the hum of the battlefield.