Page 102 of Crowned In Venom

It rips through the halls, jagged and raw, the sound of metal meeting flesh, of chains breaking, of blood hitting stone.

Then—chaos.

By the time I step into the lower corridors, the air is thick with iron and fire, the stench of burning torches mingling with the copper tang of fresh death.

The prison has erupted.

A guard is pulled down by two ragged, desperate men, their teeth bared, their limbs wild with starvation and fury. His screams do not last long.

Another is dragged against the bars of a cell, his skull shattering against the iron. Blood sprays in a red arc across the stone, a grotesque painting of violence and vengeance.

The doors to the outer halls have been forced open.

Bodies flood the space, some running for freedom, others tearing through my men like wolves who have finally tasted blood.

The rebellion has begun.

And I know who did this.

A single word scratched into the wall near the open cell.

Checkmate.

My teeth clench. Anya.

The fire in my heart burns hotter than the torches lining the walls.

She thinks she has won.

She has only started a war.

And I intend to end it.

I draw my blade and step into the fray.

A prisoner lunges, swinging a jagged piece of metal. His arm is too thin, his movements too slow. I sidestep, catch his wrist, and twist.

A sickening crack.

His scream barely leaves his lips before I slam my dagger into his throat.

Hot blood spills over my hands as I rip the blade free, shoving him aside as his body crumples.

A second attacker comes at me from behind—a woman with wild, unkempt hair and a rusted length of chain wrapped around her fists.

She swings for my head.

I duck.

The chain slams into the stone wall, sparks flying on impact.

Before she can recover, I drive my boot into her knee.

Bone shatters.

She collapses with a strangled cry, and I finish it with a swift, merciless slash of my sword.

No time to breathe.

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