The Beast advanced, muscles coiling, determined to end this.
Baelon sat up, coughing out pieces of his fractured form. He lifted his head and sneered, his voice coming out in a hoarse rasp. “You think this changes anything?” He staggered to his feet, crystalline shards and dust breaking off with each movement. “You are too late. My kind will decimate yours even if I’m gone.”
Azazel shook his metaphysical head as he watched the scene unfold. That was going to be Baelon’s biggest mistake… taunting the creature.
The Beast roared, a thunderous screech so loud it shook the ground. Then, with a final, explosive surge, he lunged—pure fury in motion. His claws flashed, sharp as unbreakable razors, his primitive hunger howling for Krystalii blood.
Keeping his psionic hold on Baelon tight, The Beast struck. He moved like a force of nature—unstoppable, inevitable. His claws raked across the Krystalii’s body, and each swipe sent deeper cracks that splintered through that crystalline form.
Dark-blue energy leaked faster from Baelon like a geyser as he staggered back. His arrogance crumbled alongside his fractured body.
The Beast couldn’t… wouldn’t stop. He’d waited too long, endured too much to deny his very instinct. Every moment of restraint, every ounce of control Azazel had ever forced over him, was long gone. His rage burst free, no longer contained, and he seized his prize with unstoppable force.
Driving his massive fist into Baelon’s chest, he lifted the crystalline tyrant off his feet and slammed him against the jagged wall of the chamber.
The impact sent another shock wave and created cracks that raced across the structure like shards of lightning.
Baelon’s glowing eyes widened, and his jagged, sharp teeth bared in something between terror and disbelief. He raised one trembling hand, energy crackling between his fingers.
The Beast’s claws came down and crushed the gathered power before the Krystalii could let it loose. “Enough,” he growled, his voice a guttural snarl, savage and far from human.
Baelon gasped. His crystalline frame flickered, and the once-imposing icy-blue sheen of his body dimmed, its former clarity now turning colorless.
The pressure shifted, growing heavier and charged with something beyond the physical.
Even housed within The Beast, Azazel sensed the way Baelon’s presence unraveled.
The fragile balance of the Krystalii’s existence slipped through fractured cracks throughout his body.
He wheezed, his words layered in a fragmented chuckle. “You fool. You… cannot… stop what has begun.” His voice was weaker now, distorted, as though he spoke through a static connection.
The Beast tightened his grip around Baelon’s throat. “Doesn’t matter. You won’t live to see it.”
Rearing back with a roar, he sang in triumph as he delivered one final, brutal blow. His claws tore through the last fragile hold Baelon had on this realm.
The Krystalii’s body shattered into a thousand fragments of fractured blue light. For a brief second, the space where Baelon had stood rippled, collapsing inward as the crystal fragments flickered and disintegrated, vanishing into nothingness.
The only thing left was… silence.
The Beast stood, his breath ragged, his massive chest heaving with each exhale. His clawed paws curled, then unfurled. The restless energy of the battle still thrummed through his veins. The weight of his transformation pulsed and lingered just beneath the surface, reluctant to recede. He turned, locking his eyes on Toni’s unconscious form. His rage faded and was replaced by something far sharper. Fear.
For Toni.
The battle was over. But for Azazel, deeply entrenched inside The Beast, the actual fight had just begun.
Holy God. Toni groaned. Hopefully, someone got the license plate of the damn truck that ran her over. With a grimace, she rolled over onto her back. Taking a deep breath, she coughed when some fine dust landed in her nose and made her sneeze. She waved a hand over her face, trying to clear the air.
Rubbing her eyes, she took a chance and opened them… and blinked. Several times. Filling her vision were three of the handsomest men she’d ever seen. The blond on her left had steel-gray eyes that twinkled with mischief.
“Well, hello there, pretty lady,” he said, placing his crooked elbow on his bent knee. “You doin’ okay?”
“Arakiba,” admonished the man on her right. “Do I have to bring in Morgan to make you behave?”
“Bro!” Arakiba snorted, shrugging gleefully. “Just being friendly, is all, Aba.”
The man who reprimanded the blond had to be the leader of the trio. While his tone was playful, the underlying solemnity was unmistakable.
She took in his striking appearance and swallowed a moan of appreciation.
