Page 99 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

I slit his throat.

Blood sprays across my chest, hot, rich, a final offering.

His body crumples, twitching.

Pathetic.

The last twodon’t beg.

They stand, weapons drawn, accepting their fate.

A challenge.

I smile, baring fangs.

One of them spits on the ground. "You think you’re untouchable, naga filth? You think killing us will change anything?"

I roll my shoulders, testing the tension in my muscles. "No. But it will make me feel better."

They lunge at once, working in tandem, trained killers.

I meet them with brutality.

One swings low, aiming for my legs. I leap, twisting mid-air, and slam my tail against his head. Bone shatters beneath the impact, his body crumpling before he even registers he’s dead.

The last one doesn’t falter.

He keeps attacking, blade flashing in precise, calculated arcs.

A decent fighter.

Too bad for him.

I catch his wrist, forcing his arm wide, and drive my claws into his exposed ribs.

He gasps, sagging forward as blood bubbles past his lips.

I hold him there, close enough that he can taste his own death.

"You should have stayed hidden," I murmur against his ear.

I rip his throat out.

Silence settles over the clearing.

Only the crackle of the fire remains, casting flickering shadows over the bodies littering the ground.

I exhale, pulse thrumming, body slick with blood, none of it mine.

It’s not enough.

Not nearly enough.

These were scouts, pawns in a larger game.

Jalith sent them.

He’s getting closer.

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