The beast fell to its flank, its injured leg failing to keep it upright, while Russell slammed to his back, falling beside Caleb, his right shoulder flaring with pain.

“Flynn? You…”

“Get up!” Russell clutched the guy’s necktie and hauled him to his feet.

The monster scrambled to get up, its claws scuffling along the ground,

He yanked his old teammate behind him as he backed away. He might not like the guy, but he still chose to prioritize Caleb’s safety instead of going for a sneak attack. “Back! Back! You too, Thompson!”

“Cal, you stupid fuck!” Tommy shouted as he plodded his way to their group, his chest heaving. “Can’t you use your head right?”

“You all need to leave,” Russell said. “You aren’t helping anyone.”

Tommy hunched over, his arms propped on his knees. “I already told your friend, runt. No one cares about what you—”

“Tommy Thompson!” a female voice screeched from the crowd. “Get your fat ass back here!”

Russell didn’t wait for Tommy to decide. He grabbed the fat man by the shoulders and heaved him across the carpeted floor, sending him rolling back in the direction of the watching crowd. He spun to Caleb next. “Haul his fat ass away from here. Now.”

Eyes widening, Caleb bobbed his head before dashing toward his friend.

“What do we do now?” Clayton asked.

“Where’s the rest of the guys, Rook?” Russell asked.

“They…they aren’t coming.”

The monster managed to recover and lay prone on the ground, letting out a growl, its tail wagging in the air behind it.

“Well, get them here,” Russell said.

Rook raked his hand through his dreadlocks. “I already tried. They won’t—“

“You were team captain, weren’t you?” Russell grabbed the man by the shoulder and stared him down. “Make them.”

Rook stared in silence before giving him a nod. He jogged back to the crowd, calling out people’s names on the way.

“Can we hold out, just the two of us?“ Clayton asked, with Autumn’s silent figure a constant shadow behind him.

Russell grunted. “Not with you having to protect her at the same time.”

“I can do it.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Nah, I—”

Russell gritted his teeth. “Listen to me, Clay. You need to leave.”

“But…”

“You aren’t listening, Clay!” Russell hissed. “This monster didn’t come alone, remember?”

Clayton’s shoulders fell, and he lowered his hammer.

“You understand now?” Russell asked. ”We can barely keep this one occupied. What happens if another one shows up? You better get Autumn away from here. You’re only putting both of yourselves in danger.”

Clayton muttered a curse before he swung around and disappeared from Russell’s view. “Don’t you dare die on me, Flynn!”

With no one else around, the monster’s eyeless gaze locked on to Russell. He grasped the handle of his flashlight, perspiration damping his hands, and he clung to his weapon for its sturdiness. With those weighing him down now gone, he was back to square one. Should he attack? Go on the defensive? Wait for help that might or might not arrive?

The monster made the choice for him. It pushed itself back on its feet and gave its body a good shake, its scales jangling like a jeans pocket full of coins.

Russell held his weapon in front of him. Ready.

Even with an injured leg, the beast managed to lunge.

He bolted to the side, letting the monster pass, and it crashed back down on the floor, its landing awkward.

He raised his weapon before him another time as the monster pushed itself upright. No, he wasn’t back to square one. The beast was injured. It wasn’t a serious threat. Not with a damaged limb.

With both its hind legs intact, its attacks remained swift and sudden. What it couldn’t do was catch its fall after its lunges. Chain its attacks. Changing directions wasn’t one of the Scaletooths' fortes to begin with, and with only one front leg working, this particular Scaletooth's situation was even worse.

Its advantage with speed was half gone; if anything, Russell might even be faster now. All the monster had was its near-impenetrable armor. If he could aim for the same spot a couple of times, he might be able to—

The monster pounced. He sidestepped, dodging its telegraphed attack without much effort, and swung his flashlight at the back of its head.

The monster crashed onto the floor, and this time, it needed to exert more effort to get back up.

Russell had been swinging tools for years, hammering things down for an entire decade. If he had to, he would pound this bastard down straight back to hell where it came from.

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Its snarls morphed into growls as it kept charging at its prey, only for Russell to escape every single time, inflicting more and more damage with each exchange.

He didn’t know how much time had passed as he hefted the heavy flashlight before him, his arms trembling from the repeated exertion. Had it been seconds? Minutes? He had lost count of how many times he had swung at the monster, thinking it was going to be the final strike that would end it all. Instead, he had failed to break through its scales. His new strength hadn’t been enough, not when he couldn’t land a solid, all-out blow. And as he kept getting slower, the beast only seemed to be getting faster.

The monster let out a furious roar before it lunged.

Russell had no time. No energy. He threw his body to the floor as both its front claws swiped over his head. Propping his wobbly arms on the carpet, he stared at the beast in shock—it was already facing him for another charge.

He was getting slower, but the beast wasn’t getting any faster. Not exactly. The injury on its front leg was simply…gone.

Healed.

The fucking bastard could heal itself.

Russell rolled next to a two-seater sofa as the monster’s figure shot past in a blur, shredding the carpet with its talon-sized claws.

Staggering to his feet behind the wide seat, he watched as the monster spun around for another go, its wide chest heaving but looking no worse for wear. The scales on its head, shoulders, even its leg all glinted under the scant light coming from outside, all looking undamaged.

The scales on its rear compressed together one more time.

Russell had seen enough. With a powerful stomp of his boot, he sent the large furniture barreling toward the monster.

Then he ran away.

He couldn’t fight against it. Not even with his newfound strength. There was no hope for him to win. He could only flee for his life and pray he’d be able to escape.

He made a mad dash through the expansive seating area of the lobby. He needed time to think. Obstacles to slow down the monster. Options.

Ahead of him, beyond the abandoned seats and tables, a few figures stood—idiots trying to get a closer look at the monster, gawking at him as he retreated in their direction.

“Get back!” Russell screamed in anger when the song returned with a vengeance. He sensed the threat even without looking. So he dove to the side, vaulting over the back of one of the couches—only to crash onto another low coffee table, tipping it over as he sprawled down on the carpet, the reddish-brown table falling on top of him.

Bracing his elbow on the floor, he pushed himself up and groaned as the table shifting on his back. Of course, Solace wouldn’t commission cheap furniture, like tables made from pine or cherry. No, their family just had to have mahogany.

Russell grunted and peered out from under the heavy table.

There was no sign of the monster.

But he had heard the song. He sensed the monster coming. He was sure of it. And it took seconds before he recognized his mistake. It was nowhere ahead of him simply because it had never lunged for his back. It was still—

Something crashed into him, blasting right through the upturned table and throwing him against a pillar.

“Russ!” a voice screamed from the void.

Russell’s eyes shot open. His hands flew before him—and whether through a miracle or chance—he caught the monster by its jaws.

“Russ! Hold on!” Serena shouted again.

He squeezed whatever strength he had left in his arms and pushed, but it was like pushing against the weight of the world, the inevitability of death slowly boring down on him.

“Stay away from there, Serena!” another voice said.

The maw inched ever closer, the rows of teeth growing ever larger, and Russell knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“Why aren’t any of you helping him?” Serena cried out. “Can’t you see he’s in danger?”

Fetid breath suffocated his nose. Rumblings drowned out his hearing.

“We’re going to, so you better stay away,” a muffled voice said. Rook. “You too, Hayes. Get back!”

They were coming for him. Hold on. He had to hold on.

Voices echoed. The growls cut off. He wrestled with the monster’s head as it tugged left, right, with the thumps and thwacks coming in a disorderly beat.

They were doing it. They were going to take the monster down.

“Watch out for its tail!” Rook shouted.

Grunts. Roars. The large head kept jerking in Russell’s grasp.

“Are you guys stupid or what?” barked a voice he recognized. Bradford. Sober. “Hold its tail down! Everyone else, push!”

An eternity passed, but the monster never drew back.

It paid no heed to the others, only caring about one, single prey—Russell.

“Nothing’s working,” another cried out when a loud bang echoed in the lobby accompanied by a flash of light. A pinging sound. A tense silence.

The monster’s ears twitched at the explosive noise, but it continued to close in, remaining unaffected.

Another gunshot rang out. Another flash. Another ping.

A third shot. A sharp whistling and a shattering of glass.

Screams.

“Stop! Stop!” someone shrieked.

“Hold your fire!” Harper’s voice boomed as loud as the gunshots. “Your shots are just bouncing off! You’re going to hit someone else with the ricochet!”

“Those…Those scales are like armor,” someone said. Someone old. “There’s nothing I can do…”

Russell’s feeble arms quivered. His muscles screamed. His lungs burned. And the pillar behind was trying to snap his back in half as his body kept begging him to let go. To give up.

“Fuck. Flynn’s not gonna last long,” a voice muttered.

Nothing was working. Nothing was going to save him. His senses had failed him. His new strength hadn’t been enough. Even his rescuers could do nothing to help him.

Darkness crept at the edges of his vision when light bloomed in front of his eyes. Small. Warm. Red. Flickering. Growing larger. Hotter.

He pulled the monster’s large head to one side. The other. It refused to budge. Now it even refused to come any closer.

“What the hell is coming out of its scales?” someone asked. “It’s…It’s smoking!”

“Step back! Back!” another said.

A flame appeared right before Russell, coming from deep inside the monster, leaking out from behind its throat.

And a scream came roaring out of Russell’s throat.

It was going to scorch him alive.

The monster wasn’t planning to kill him with a swift snap of its jaw. Not anymore. It must really want to set this particularly infuriating prey before it on fire. Watch him burn.

With magic.

He pulled his legs under him, but his boots failed to find purchase. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t move away. His feet jerked toward him, but he couldn’t get the angle right. The monster had pinned him in place, a helpless prey waiting to be slaughtered.

So he kicked. Hoofed. His legs swung in every direction. Struck at whatever hard surface he could reach. Until his boot slammed into something opposite of hard, something pliant, causing a grunt to escape from the monster’s throat.

One moment, the fire before Russell’s eyes was growing into a blaze of fiery death; the next moment, it was…gone, snuffed out as if it had never existed.

Russell blinked, remembering his experience in the parking lot—crashing on the asphalt, seeing stars, his head splitting open in pain. Crushed under a half-ton monstrosity but not immediately dying because…

Because the beast’s underbelly was soft.

He sent out a kick. Then another. Then he kicked some more. Over and over again until the monster’s pained grunts turned into bellows of pain.

“PUSH!” somebody shouted. What meager light there was in the lobby returned as the darkness edged away. But not completely.

The monster refused to give up its prey.

Fuck this. With a frustrated growl, Russell curled to himself, brought his knees up to his chest, and stomped. And the monster finally tumbled away from him.

Someone had the audacity to chuckle in that moment. “What do you know? The bastard’s still alive.”

Russell sucked in deep breaths, recognizing the douchebag’s voice. “Are you…” he rasped. “Are you freakin’ drunk right now?” He took his time to stand, but his feeble arms couldn’t even support his weight, and he cursed as his face planted on the carpet.

Bradford let out another chuckle. “Damn, bro. Look who’s talking.”

Hands grabbed him under his shoulders and helped him to his feet. “You good?” someone asked. Not Bradford. Rook.

“Stomach,” he rasped as he leaned his back against the pillar, the inside of his chest a living furnace. “That’s its weakness.”