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Summary
Zanka clenched his jaw as Jabber closed the distance, bitterness burning hot at how familiar it was—like this wasn’t the first time they’d ended up tangled, breath to breath, pretending it meant nothing.
His breath came in sharp, controlled pulls, Assistaff held loosely at his side, its gleaming tip pointing to the cracked ground. Jabber now stood a few feet away, one hand clutching a shallow, weeping across his bicep where Zanka’s staff had sliced through fabric and skin earlier.
“Damn, Mr Bad Attitude,” Jabber rasped, a wide, unhinged grin splitting his face. His pink eyes glittered with something beyond battle-lust. “You been workin’ out, dog? That stung like a mother. Feels amazing.”
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Or Zanka and Jabber clash for the first time in a while —and nothing’s changed.Series
- Part 3 of Janka Frenemies with Bennies Chronicles