Barely alive—but not for long.
Before Damien could even suck in a ragged breath, John materialized in front of him like a demon summoned straight from hell, his eyes glowing with the cold gleam of finality.
Then came the punch.
A detonation at point-blank range.
It felt less like a fist and more like a small bomb erupting in his chest.
Crack!
Damien's ribs didn't just break—they evaporated, reduced to dust before the shockwave could even finish rippling through his flesh. His vision dimmed as pure agony surged through every vein, searing him from the inside out.
He tried to scream.
He tried to howl.
But no sound came—because another punch landed, squarely on his chin, the force so brutal it nearly atomized his jaw, turning bone to powder and rattling his skull like a cracked bell.
Then another.
And another.
