The iron-thorn ball was halted mid-air with the force of a charging bull.
The man tried to wrench it free, to pull it back—but the grip holding it was no ordinary strength.
It was a devil’s pull.
He looked up at the one resisting him.
Coal-red eyes burned into his soul. Brows were drawn tight, ready to unleash devastation. Then he saw what stood behind that man—an army. Not thirty. Not fifty. Hundreds. Thousands. Armed with vicious weapons beyond anything he had ever seen.
His legs weakened.
“Leave,” he shouted hoarsely, “and you shall be spared!”
Even after his entire force had been brought down by a single woman, his arrogance remained. His cunning face, his ruthless posture—his veins seemed swollen with venom rather than blood.
“We shall see who is spared,” the Prince growled, h
