I spat blood onto the pavement, my body trembling but not giving in. The sticks came down again, cracking against my forearms, splitting skin, rattling bones. My vision was a haze of fire, but my ears—my ears caught everything.
A grunt to my left. Footsteps scuffing behind. The sharp whistle of wood before it split the air.
I ducked—barely. The stick smashed against the wall instead, splintering. I lunged forward, my fist finding ribs by instinct. The man choked on his breath and stumbled back.
Another came from the side. I pivoted blind, letting my shoulder take the hit, teeth grinding through the shock. My other hand lashed out, grabbed his collar, yanked him forward—and my forehead slammed into his nose. He crumpled, the crunch echoing like glass breaking.
Breath heaving. Blood drip
