My Brother My Mate
Liam, on the other hand, was tall; he was muscular, but his height made him just a fraction slower than the other warrior.
And in hand-to-hand combat, fractions were important.
Suddenly, one harsh kick finally connected with Liam’s outstretched arm, snapping his wrist backwards at an unnatural angle with an audible crack that was muffled amongst the sounds of the combat and the crowd.
But from where we sat, both Emma and I could hear it. Emma gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her boyfriend dropped into a defensive crouch, cradling his injured limb against his chest.
“He’s still going,” Emma hissed, turning to me with eyes as wide as saucers. “Rowena, he’s still fighting. If he doesn’t—
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