2.

The cold steel of the dagger pressed against Sua’s throat, a sharp contrast to the unnatural, searing heat radiating from the man’s massive frame.

​She could feel the erratic, violent thumping of his heart against her back. His breathing was a ragged rasp, hot against her neck. The metallic tang of fresh blood hung heavy in the damp air, but underneath it was something else—a dark, suffocating aura of a predator struggling against its own decaying restraints.

​He didn't move to grope her. Instead, his face buried into the crook of her neck, his nose grazing her skin as he inhaled sharply. He was shivering, his muscles locked in a brutal war against whatever was coursing through his veins.

​Poison, Sua’s mind clicked instantly, her past-life instincts flaring to life. A volatile neurotoxin. It’s boiling his blood, demanding a release through violence or sheer physical consumption. His lips brushed against her pulse point. It wasn't a kiss; it was the desperate, feverish graze of a starving wolf deciding whether to tear out her throat to quench his thirst. A low, feral sound vibrated in his chest.

​"Hey," Sua breathed, her voice a razor-thin whisper. She didn't flinch. "If you bite me, my poisoned blood will kill you faster than those assassins."

​The man froze. His piercing, bloodshot eyes locked onto hers through the dark. For a split second, clarity pierced through his toxin-induced haze. Intrigue flashed in his gaze, sharp and dangerous.

​"They're close!" a harsh voice barked from the thicket. "Follow the blood trail. Do not let him leave these woods alive!"

​The assassins were practically on top of them.

​The man’s grip tightened on the dagger, his intent clear—he was going to step out and slaughter them, even if it tore his failing body apart.

​Before he could move, Sua spun in his grip. With surgical precision, she drove two fingers into a cluster of nerve points at the base of his neck, right where the poisoned blood pooled heaviest.

​The man’s eyes widened in shock as his muscles instantly locked. It wasn't weakness; it was a dam violently dropped in front of a raging river. He collapsed against the trunk of the massive tree, his burning gaze pinned to her, promising absolute murder if he survived this.

​"Stay quiet," Sua whispered, her eyes devoid of fear as she looked down at the lethal stranger. "Unless you want us both butchered."

​She didn't wait for his answer. She slipped out from behind the tree roots just as three figures cloaked in black broke through the brush, their swords drawn.

​"Looking for someone?" Sua asked, her voice calm and chilling in the dead of night.

​The assassins halted, their eyes snapping to the frail, disfigured girl standing in their path.

​"Just a beggar," one of them spat, raising his blade. "Kill her and keep searching!"

​The man lunged, bringing the heavy iron sword down in a lethal arc. Sua didn't panic. She sidestepped with phantom-like agility, letting the momentum carry the assassin forward. She swept her foot behind his knee, snapping his joint backward. As he crashed into the dirt, she snatched the hilt of his falling sword out of the air.

​The weight of the weapon dragged her arm down—this body was brutally weak—but her mind was sharp.

​The remaining two charged. Sua ducked under a horizontal slash, the whistling blade cutting a few strands of her hair. The stench of sweat and rusted iron filled her nose. She pivoted hard, driving the pommel of her stolen sword directly into the temple of the second attacker. Bone crunched. He dropped like a stone.

​The last assassin hesitated, his eyes wide with sudden terror as he looked at the frail girl holding a bloodied sword. She didn't give him a chance to retreat. With a swift, brutal thrust, she buried the blade into his thigh, twisting it once before pulling it free. Blood sprayed darkly across the foliage. The man screamed, dropping his weapon and scrambling backward into the dark woods, limping for his life.

​Silence fell over the forest, broken only by the heavy, ragged breathing of the dying men and the drip of blood from Sua's borrowed blade.

​Slowly, the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps crunched over the dry leaves behind her.

​Sua turned.

​The man had broken through her nerve block. He stood tall amidst the moonlight and shadows, towering and lethal. The feverish flush of the poison still burned in his neck, but his posture was terrifyingly composed. He looked at the bodies at her feet, then slowly dragged his gaze up to her face.

​There was no uncontrollable lust in his eyes now. Just a dark, heavy fascination.

​"I really like strong girls," he murmured. His voice was a deep, silken threat that sent a shiver straight down Sua’s spine. He took a slow step into her space, his towering presence suffocating the air between them.

​He tilted his head, his eyes burning with a dangerous hunger as he stared down at her. "Tell me, little killer... who taught you how to strike the Emperor's pressure points?"