"Take your hand off me."
She stared at Lyra. She felt like she could have ended Max with just three more hits, but Lyra was begging her to stop after only one. The eyes looking up at her were wide and desperate. Lyra wasn't just asking; she was fighting to save someone else.
That made the fire in Elara's chest burn even hotter. It wasn't the hit that mattered—it was the reason Lyra was touching her. Lyra was trembling with fear, her face pale, yet she had found the courage to grab Elara's arm just to protect Max.
Elara's grip on the back of her head tightened. Max groaned, her teeth gritted in agony as her neck was forced back at an unnatural angle. Elara knew that if she struck now, she would be in a hospital bed for weeks. Part of her wanted that. She wanted her broken and out of sight.
"Please...!"
