Rex's head settled back into place with a slow, deliberate motion. A single droplet of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth where his teeth had pressed into his cheek, but his eyes remained glacial.
The momentary hope that had flickered in Theo's shattered mind didn't just die; it was incinerated.
Rex's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. It was something far more predatory.
"My turn," Rex said.
The two words were quiet, but they carried the weight of a death sentence.
The shift in atmosphere was instantaneous. The casual mockery of the crowd vanished, replaced by a hungry, predatory tension.
They knew what was coming. They knew the mercy had expired.
Rex moved.
He didn't charge; he exploded. Before Theo could even register the movement, Rex was inside his guard.
BAM!
A fist to the solar plexus folded Theo like parchment. The air left his lungs in a wet, strangled gurgle.
