Vane
The sound was wrong.
A clean hit should snap. Should ring through the bones of your hand and up into your shoulder like a struck bell. This one landed with a dull, soft thud, and the warrior stumbled back a single step.
One step. That was it.
He didn't go down.
I stared at my fist. The knuckles throbbed, but not from impact. From how pathetically little force they'd carried. That punch should have broken cartilage. Should have dropped him flat on the dirt.
The necklace.
My wolf was sealed. Every ounce of strength I'd trained with, fought with, relied on since I was fourteen was locked behind a pendant the size of my thumbnail. Right now, I punched like a human woman half my actual capability, and the warrior I'd struck could see it on my face.
He touched his nose. Blood smeare
