One more strike. Lylah’s eyes locked on his ankle. She immediately withdrew the dagger and swung it toward the target, but missed by just an inch.
The head warrior leaped back, but not before suffering two cuts—on the wrist and the foot—dangerously close to taking a third strike and losing the match.
His veins bulged with with anger.
This girl… had just tricked him. She had two daggers, one hidden. She had purposely played weak to get close and make him drop his guard before striking.
What a cunning little punk.
Jaws dropped. Eyes widened. The scene had played out so fast, it took the crowd a full minute to process it.
Those who doubted her were too shocked to speak. It was completely unexpected. A slap to their faces.
Lylah had two strikes. One more, and she would win.
Lucas’s lip
