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The smirk that crawled across Syros’s face was definitely not a good sign.

“I’m welling up.” Zee sniffed. “So fuckin’ proud of you, girl.”

“You ain’t my vibe.” Jenny lunged, fists up.

Syros sidestepped with surprising grace, pivoting to face her. “I only understood a fraction of what you just said, and I see now why my brother threw you off a cliff.”

“I choose them!” Jenny jabbed quickly, landing a blow to his sternum that made him grunt. “The found family worth fighting for!”

Syros’s eyes darkened. “Then you’ll die with them.”

He moved with a speed that belied his size, grabbing her wrist mid-punch and twisting sharply. Jenny cried out but twisted her body to follow the motion, breaking free with a practiced move.

“Whoa, Gen Z’s got moves,” Zee murmured beside me, his wings flaring brighter.

Jenny and Syros circled each other, the prison yard’s harsh lights casting their long shadows across the dusty ground. For a moment, I thought Jenny might actually stand a chance. She’d survived our run-in. She was resilient, resourceful, a bit crazy, but who wasn’t?

“Should we help her?” I whispered to Zee, but he shook his head.

“She wants this, Kitten. It’s her redemption arc.”

Syros feinted left, then drove forward with his right shoulder, slamming into Jenny’s middle. She staggered back but recovered fast, and threw a quick one-two punch that caught him across the jaw. Syros barely flinched.

“You fight like injured prey,” he spat, grin growing.

“Better than fighting like a basic villain,” Jenny shot back, circling again.

I edged closer, ready to join the fight, but Jenny caught my movement. “Stay back, Adam! This is between me and this bag of dicks.”

Syros laughed—a sound like rocks tumbling down a hillside—the sound of his true self trying to break through. “You really think you can take me? I’ve killed things ten times your size.”

“Maybe,” Jenny said. “But I bet you’ve never gone viral. That shit takes mad skills.”

“I have no idea what you’re say⁠—”

She drove forward in a blur of motion, landing three quick strikes to Syros’s throat. He stumbled—actually stumbled—and I felt a surge of hope. If she could knock him back, then we definitely stood a chance.

It didn’t last.

Syros recovered, eyes flashing with cold fury. He roared—not a dragon’s roar, but something close enough to make the hairs on my arms stand on end. His hand shot out, impossibly fast, snatching Jenny by the throat.

“No!” I shouted, lunging forward.

But it was too late.

With a single, efficient twist of his wrist, a crack echoed across the prison yard like a gunshot.

Time seemed to slow. Jenny’s body went limp, her eyes wide with surprise but already empty. Syros held her suspended for a moment, his face twisted in disgust, then softening to mild annoyance.

“Stupid girl,” he muttered, and hurled her lifeless body at the fence.

The buckled and bent section of chain-link snapped and her body tore through it, landing in a crumpled heap on the other side. The fence gaped open now, the hole easily large enough for Syros to climb through.

“Jenny!” I rushed forward.

Zee grabbed my arm. “She’s gone, Kitten.”

Syros turned to us, lips curled in a vicious sneer. “I’m enjoying this. Who else wants to dance?”