The Fury of Two Kings
Arion and Ezra were a storm of vengeance. The two brutes, who had just moments ago been so confident, froze in terror, their eyes wide with a dawning horror. They had not just chosen a weak princess to torment; they had chosen the woman protected by two of the most powerful beings in the land.
Arion, a man possessed by a cold, quiet fury, moved first. He was no longer a human prince but a predator. His golden eyes, filled with a primal, terrifying rage, fixed on the man who had laid his hands on Evangeline. He didn't speak. He simply moved, a blur of motion and power. His fist connected with the brute's face, the sickening sound of snapping bone echoing in the small hut. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt.
Ezra, with a swift, elegant grace, moved to the second brute. He didn't use brute force. He simply looked at the man, his ruby eyes glowing with a dark, ancient power. The brute's eyes widened in a horrified realization, and a low, whimpering sound escaped his lips before he too collapsed, his body trembling with a fear that was not of this world.
Seraphina, the architect of this chaos, was paralyzed by a cold, profound terror. She had not just failed; she had awakened a storm she could not control. She took a step back, her hands trembling, her eyes darting from Arion to Ezra. "No… no, this is not possible!" she whispered, her voice a strangled gasp. "You were supposed to be lost!"
Arion turned his terrifying gaze to her. His hands, still balled into fists, trembled with a rage so potent it was almost visible. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. His eyes said it all. She was no longer a rival. She was a target.
But before he could act, Ezra's voice, a low, commanding rumble, cut through the tense air. "Don't, Arion. She is not worth it. The princess needs us."
Arion, a man on the brink of an all-consuming rage, took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked at Evangeline, his eyes softening as he saw her battered face, her defiant gaze. He knew Ezra was right. Vengeance could wait. Her safety was all that mattered.
He moved to her, his movements a mixture of urgency and a profound, aching gentleness. He untied the ropes from her wrists, his fingers trembling as he felt the bruises on her skin. He then lifted her into his arms, holding her close to his chest, his body a shield against the world. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her body finally relaxing.