Page 98 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

I move to the next before the body hits the ground.

Steel tears through flesh, my blade sinking into his side. I twist.

A scream erupts, splitting the night.

Now they react.

Now they see me.

I grin, blood dripping from my weapon.

Let’s play.

One of them lunges,twin daggers flashing in the dim light.

I sidestep, catching his wrist mid-swing, and snap it with a sharp twist.

His shriek turns to a gargle when I bury my claws into his stomach and rip upward. Entrails spill, steaming against the cold ground, the stench of death curling through the air.

The others are moving now, finally realizing their mistake.

A blade whistles past my face, slicing a shallow cut along my jaw.

I turn to meet the coward who threw it, his eyes wide, desperate.

"He's alone!" one of them hisses. "Take him?—"

I launch myself at him before he can finish.

My weight crashes into him, sending us both to the ground. His dagger clatters away. I wrap my tail around his waist, tightening until bones begin to snap.

His scream feeds the fire inside me.

I press my knee against his chest, pinning him, and lean close. "You should’ve brought more men."

His hand scrambles for a hidden knife.

I catch it mid-motion and ram it through his throat.

Three left.

One of them runs.

I laugh, sharp and cold.

He won’t get far.

I track his stumbling form, darting through the trees, his breath ragged, his steps uneven.

His panic makes him sloppy.

I let him think he’s escaping. Let him believe that if he runs fast enough, if he prays hard enough, he might live.

Then I drop from the trees, landing in front of him.

He skids to a halt, panting, eyes darting wildly for an escape.

"Please—"

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