Page 3 of Charged By the Razorbacks

“You are the missing component. You can make it stable.”

Her smile sharpened. “Yeah, I’m going to stop you right there.”

“We are not asking.”

“Good,” she said lightly. “Because I’m not offering.”

The first hybrid moved.

It came straight at her—and she stepped in. Not back, never back. Her hands slipped to the sheaths at her back, the sai sliding into her palms like they belonged there, the weight familiar, grounding, right.

The first strike drove clean beneath its ribs, and the second followed before it could react.

It dropped. Her body was already turning.

Second one—came in with a low attack. She shifted, redirecting its momentum, stepping through the opening it gave her—strike. No wasted motion.

The third came from behind.

She felt it—pivoted—blade in—done. These things weren’t that easy to beat. She was good, but not that damn good. These were expendable, designed for something else.

Her breathing stayed even, but the edge of it had changed—faster now, tighter. The burn built under her skin as the fight pressed in around her.

The fourth paused.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Well,” she said softly. “That’s new.”

The thing was watching and adapting. The first three had been fodder, tracking how she fought, she realized. This—this was when the real fight began.

It came at her differently. Feint. Redirect. Adjust. It almost caught her—almost.

Her lips curved. “Cute.”

She stepped through the attack with practiced precision. One step, two, brace for impact, take the hit whilst driving the sai into the thing’s left eye.

It dropped. Silence hit. She took a moment to breathe. Then—pain.

Sharp. Sudden.

Her body jerked, shoulder snapping back as something clipped her from the side. Not deep—but enough to matter. Her breath left her in a sharp exhale, muscles tightening instinctively as heat flared through her arm.

“Okay,” she muttered. “That’s rude.”

Her gaze snapped toward the source. There were more of them. Of course there were more.

The panels hadn’t finished opening.

Her stance shifted automatically, her weight adjusting to compensate for the injury before she consciously processed it. The pain was noted but ignored, at least for now.

She moved again. Faster and with less precision. Still controlled—but the rhythm had shifted.

Pressure building. More targets. More movement. They weren’t fucking around. They needed her, and it was clearly their intent to take her.

Her muscles burned now, breath coming harder, the edge of fatigue creeping in whether she liked it or not.

“Not done,” she murmured.