I stood in the clearing, the dust settling from our brief but intense clash. The sting of a fresh cut burned on my left arm, but I ignored it, eyes locked on Augustus. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his blade dripping with sweat and dirt, not blood—thankfully. This was the third time we'd crossed paths, and each encounter felt like a bitter reminder that neither of us would relent.
"Why do you keep showing up?" I spat, tightening my grip on my weapon.
He smirked, wiping his brow. "I could ask you the same."
The tension crackled in the air between us, neither willing to strike first but both ready to end the standoff. I hated how calm he looked. Even as blood trickled from a shallow cut on his cheek, he stood there like this was some casual game. A game I wasn’t interested in
