Jacky raised his hands, pointing them at Luke, who sat frozen like a deer staring down the headlights of a runaway truck. Fear had him locked in place, and hell, you couldn't blame the guy.
Anyone who had seen the Bloodhound General up close would be shitting their pants too. That bastard didn't just change the rules—he obliterated the entire playbook.
One visit from the General, and suddenly the beastkin went from offering humans food and shelter like good little hosts to hunting them for sport, throwing their customs out the window as casually as tossing a used condom.
Whoosh— Four blood darts zipped out from Jacky's fingers like the world's most twisted game of darts, nailing Luke in the shoulders and knees.
His scream was the kind that made you wince, pure agony and humiliation dripping from it.
"You stay right there, pretty boy."
Jacky sneered, walking away like he hadn't just turned Luke into a cat pincushion.
