Scars Of A Broken Bond

However, his well-honed instincts and years of combat training instantly kicked in, allowing him to react swiftly.

Tyrone deftly sidestepped the attacker. The sharp blade cut through the air where he had just been a moment before. Moving quickly, he delivered a precise strike to his opponent’s wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon with a yelp of pain.

The remaining five assailants closed in, each with a knife in hand.

Their eyes burned with fury as they circled him.

Tyrone dodged another attack, kicking the knife out of one of the men’s hands.

Unyielding, they relentlessly continued the assault. Their coordinated strikes left little room for Tyrone to escape unscathed.

Despite his best efforts, Tyrone couldn’t escape unharmed. During the struggle, a blade grazed his arm, drawing a crimson line. Fuelled by adrenaline, he swiftly retaliated by flinging one of the men over his shoulder.

stood in a vigilant stance against the wall. Rain cascaded down his face, making it difficult to recognize any of the men before

fixed on them. “Who are you?” he demanded, undeterred

roared the tall man,

rage, he

sideways. Then, in one fluid motion, he clasped the assailant’s wrist with a vice grip, gaining

man’s chest, forcing him backward

His reflexes were fast, but the overwhelming odds proved challenging. He couldn’t avoid

the sleeve of his suit, penetrating his flesh, and crimson liquid spilled from the deep gash. The raindrops pelted down,

as he delivered a powerful kick to the assailant who had wounded him. The force of the

the assailants,