The man’s face turned red, and he let out an animalistic scream. He came barreling towards Ty with no plan. Ty saw Chans balk and back up a step, realization dawning as Gunnar started throwing his fists wantonly, using all his strength and none of his speed to try and hit Ty. Ty dodged him easily, and as the man slowed down further with exhaustion, Ty struck.
He slammed his fist into the man’s face, watching as another one of his teeth went flying from his mouth, blood and spittle spraying through the air. The man stumbled back, dazed, and Ty struck again, nailing him in the gut.
As he doubled over, Ty brought his knee to the man’s face and crushed it into him.
Gunnar collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.
A knockout with just a few hits? What a fucking loser.
Ty grinned maliciously, turning his attention to Chans, whose face paled with the tiniest bit of fear. He might not be such an easy target for Ty’s Power.
Chans darted for him, striking at his middle.
Damn, the fucker was fast. He nailed Ty in the abdomen, making Ty suck in a breath as the air was knocked out of him. He struggled to breathe, but gave in to the pain, pulling the man’s arm closer to him before he could move away.
Holding on to him with all his might, he rammed his knee up into Chans’s balls. The man doubled over in pain, and Ty struck him in the face, feeling bone crunch beneath his fists, but the man didn’t go down. He staggered back up, clearly still working through the pain in his groin, as he swung and landed a blow on Ty’s face.
Ty felt his lip split, filling his mouth with blood, which he spat onto the ground.
He heard Ena gasp in fear from the sidelines, but he didn’t dare look at her.
He went right back to assessing for an opening, when Ty sensed it.
Chans’s anger—not at him, but at Ena. At the witch, just because of what she was.
Ty capitalized on it and fed him.
Anger at the daemons for treating Ena so poorly, for making her wear that fucking collar.
Anger at the witches for binding them to Iblis and damning them forever.
Anger at the matriarchs for keeping it all a secret.
Anger at the daemons for accepting their fate.
Anger at Iblis for always, always being his Master.
Round and around his anger went, a never-ending cycle of torment within him that he yearned to be free of, that he yearned for peace from, but he knew that he would never have it, and that fact made him the angriest of all.
Chans’s reaction was different from Gunnar’s. The man stopped, clutching his chest—right over his heart. Ty could hear it beating faster, harder. It was almost beatingtoohard as all of Ty’s anger hit the man.
Fuck, he was having a heart attack.
Chans collapsed on the ground, struggling for breath and clutching his left arm in pain.
Dammit. He couldn’t let him die. Cole wouldn’t like that.
Ty let him go, relieving him of the channel of anger between them. He saw the man’s color return, and his breath even out, but as he looked up at Ty, Ty kicked him square in the face, knocking him the fuck out.
Both men lay unconscious in the circle now, unmoving on the ground. Ty made sure they were well and truly done before he allowed himself a deep, calming breath, and turned toward Ena and Turner.
Turner’s face was filled with respect and glee. “Fuck yeah, brother,” he said, coming over to clap Ty on the shoulder. “Don’t know why I ever doubted you. That was epic.”
Ty accepted Turner’s congratulations with a smile as he caught his breath.
Then Ena approached him, too, concern etched on her features. “Are you okay?” she asked him, her voice grave. She moved to touch his lip where it was split, but something told him the split lip was not the only wound she meant.
“I’ll be fine, now you’re safe,” he said, the anger in him beginning to dissipate at her touch.
