To Atticus, the seconds ticking by seemed like days.
Time moved slowly, and every moment felt like hell.
Atticus lost count of the number of times he felt his spine tingle during this battle. He was fighting for his life, and it was draining—not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It was everything.
Atticus had to muster up every fiber of his being just to prevent himself from getting killed.
Niall was relentless. Until now, Atticus had no idea why the man—or beast—was this angry at him. He knew it was because of the way he addressed the sovereign, but… why the hell would he want to kill him just because of that? At best, he should be teaching him a lesson.
Niall's movements were deadly. For a beast resembling a man, he sure knew how to battle like one. His movements were swift, each of his attacks lethal.
