Rage twisted Dracula's face, veins bulging on his forehead. He lunged at Leo, claws ready, and cut his throat.
"How dare you humiliate my kin!!" He shouted as if he had found a problem with Leo using his kin's bones, but not him killing them with his own hands.
What the fucked up father he was!
Leo surely felt weird about this.
Leo braced, raising the bone... To his shock, the brittle weapon didn't snap—it held, stopping Dracula's deadly swipe.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
Claw against bone, strike after strike... yet Leo blocked each one. His hands moved almost without thought, body reacting with instinctive precision, as though some hidden memory guided him.
His body… it was built for battle.
Leo grit his teeth. His parents said they had only taught him the basics of fighting, but this—this was far beyond training.
This was freaking survival.
What the heck are you teaching your son?
