The immediate threat was outside, not the broken thing bleeding out at his feet.
He turned his back on me completely, a gesture more dismissive and insulting than any glare.
But before he could walk away, the woman spoke again, her voice hesitant.
"Sir, what about him?"
He didn't even bother to look back. His voice was flat, cold, and utterly final.
"He isn't going to make it. Don't worry about him."
And with that, he strode away, the woman quickly following in his wake, leaving me alone in the dust and the silence that was somehow louder than the fight outside.
The moment they were gone, the full weight of my injuries came crashing down.
"Grr!" I groaned, the sound tearing from my throat as I clutched my chest.
It felt like my ribs were a collection of shattered pottery shifting under my skin.
The impact was still echoing through my body, a deep, resonant thrum of pure agony.
Strong. That guy was insanely powerful.
