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Blood pulsed unruly through dilated veins, and the foundations she had worked so hard to build up shook violently as the male’s jaws did just that; shook and tore at her throat with a grip she could not hope to undo as long as this fight lasted. Black pupils ate away at her scarlet irises as the truth came before her eyes, unforgiving and relentless. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. It was another crushing blow to her mentality; the world was never to deal her a just share in life. The fact was to bitter to swallow, but dark red drops were dripping onto earth, and it belonged to her.
The Centurion wheezed, but there was much strength in the hybrid jaws pressing against her airway. She wanted to die, and this would be her moment. Samael’s sick, damaged spawn wasn’t meant to wander this world. Her existence alone was a terrible sin, and there had been too much pain and sorrow to cut at her soul. There was no mercy for the weak, and she didn’t wish for it either. Her body ceased the struggle, and the bastard could do whatever he wanted. Nostrils flared as they sought to draw oxygen down into exhausted lungs, but the air’s path was blocked.
Your faith walks on broken glass
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