Brooks:
The moment the Elder’s hand fell, my body surged forward, instincts taking control of me. Callen was fast, but I was faster. Our bodies collided with a thunderous crack, the impact rippling through my bones. I dug my heels into the dirt, using every ounce of strength to push him back, but he held his ground, his snarl inches from my face.
We grappled, muscles straining as we tested each other's limits. The crowd was a blur—a low hum of gasps and cries—but I couldn’t afford to look away. His eyes were cold, calculated. He wanted this to be slow. He wanted to break me.
Not today.
I pivoted, slipping under his arm, and delivered a hard elbow to his ribs. He stumbled but recovered quickly, swinging a fist toward my face. I ducked, feeling the rush of air as it barely missed me.
