Rex didn't give her a second to recover. As she slid down the rock, he pivoted and drove his left fist into her stomach.
The air escaped her lungs in a pathetic, wheezing, blood-flecked gasp. He didn't stop there.
He gripped her by the hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat, and slammed his fist into her ribs.
CRACK CRACK CRACK.
The sound of ribs snapping was like dry kindling being broken over a knee. Eryndra's body convulsed, coughing up a spray of crimson that painted Rex's gauntlet.
He laughed, a guttural, jagged sound, and tossed her aside.
Calivara tried to crawl away, her fingers clawing at the stone, but Rex was faster. He stepped on her wrist, the sound of small bones grinding together accompanying her shrill scream of agony.
"Where are you going, little bird?" Rex asked, his voice dripping with a sadistic, charismatic, and utterly terrifying calm. "The show's just getting started."
