They crashed to the ground together, a tangle of limbs, blood, and labored breathing. They rolled across the blood-slicked floor, each trying to position themselves for a killing blow.
Rex managed to pin her wrist against the hardwood, his forearm pressing down on her throat with enough pressure to bruise, while Iris had her fingers hooked like talons around the tendons of his inner elbow.
The hall was silent save for their ragged, animalistic panting. Blood from both of them smeared the floor where they struggled, creating a grotesque tableau of crimson streaks.
Rex looked down at her, his vision swimming with adrenaline and pain. Iris looked up at him, her face a mask of blood and sweat, her eyes burning with a terrifying, beautiful ferocity.
"You're not... done," she whispered, the words bubbling through the blood in her mouth.
