ALINA
Blood was still dripping from the ax when I let it fall.
It hit the floor with a thud, but I barely heard it over Riot's ragged, pain-filled breaths.
His face twisted in agony, sweat popping out on his forehead as he held the ruined stump of his arm.
His breath came out in sharp, broken gasps. Blood pooled at his side, dark and thick against the floor.
He shook, but I didn't know if it was from the pain or the rage in his eyes.
I stared down at him, feeling nothing. No pity. No regret. Just the hum of anger under my skin.
The loss of his hand was enough to remind him for all the days of his miserable life that hitting a woman was wrong, though I didn't believe he would learn.
"You used that hand to hit a woman," I said quietly. "Now you don't have it for any
