Royal Alpha Roar.
The jagged end of the whip kisses my back—no, seduces itself deep into the mass of my flesh—and I grunt. My jaw locks in agony. It’s the first to land in ten minutes, and it sinks in like shards of shattered glass driving into my spine, only to be ripped out with no mercy. I grind my teeth so hard my muscles feel like they’re tearing, but Perilous moves swiftly, stitching me up even as my body screams. The wound is deep, deeper than any mere lash, and I know it’ll leave a scar.
Before me, ten of these Skull wolves begin to shift. They are feral things. The remaining thirty tighten their hands around the whips and baseball bats, watching, waiting.
I have taken ten men down in ten minutes.
They are already sleeping beneath the sand like useless twines. I raise my fist
