His vision was a sea of red. His entire body was wracked with a grinding agony, as if every inch of skin, every joint, and every muscle were bleeding.
The only way to suppress the maddening pain was to act on instinct, throwing one punch after another.
Breaking each other's bones, tearing at cheeks and shoulders, pummeling stomachs, choking throats, wrenching off legs...
Their battle was filled with the most primal violence. There was no beauty to it, only the rawest display of power.
Like wild beasts.
Westheid had lost all sense of time. How long had he and Mivana been fighting?
A few hours? A whole day and night? Or had it been several days?
All he knew was that the torrential rain had never let up, and neither had their battle.
THUD—THUD—THUD—
