“You’re not taking her,” Brendan growled at Reynard, throwing a punch right in his gut.
He groaned, curling into his stomach, then plunged forward, tackling Brendan. “I won’t let you take her. She’d never want to be with you, a murderer. A disgusting,” – he punched his jaw – “filthy,” – another punch – “vile,” – another – “Rogue.”
As Reynard moved to punch him again, Brendan caught his fist and twisted it. He shook his head, feeling rattled. He bared his teeth. “Your family ruined my life; I could’ve been the best of the best.” His eyes glowed.
Reynard retreated and stood when he saw the swirls and puffs of Brendan’s shadow magic emit from his shoulders. He rolled his eyes and huffed, “Pathetic, you can’t even fight with your fists. Are you so weak that you need to rely on your powers
