Kaan roars louder, stepping around the monstrous male and fisting his hair, ripping his head back far enough to bare Hock’s throat in my direction. My heart stops, the rest of the world smudging into oblivion. Holding my stare, he lifts his toothy, bloody weapon to the stretch of flesh and saws. A breath shudders into me. Hock’s screams start fierce and frantic before tapering into a gurgled groan as his throat is severed in messy, bone-grinding increments, plumes of blood ribboning down his jerking chest like a ruddy aurora.
