She slammed her knee up into his stomach.
Air exploded out of him; spit and blood flew past her cheek.
Before he could curl in, she stepped to the side and smashed her forehead into his nose.
Crack.
His head snapped back, a fresh spray of blood staining the floor.
The jackal reeled, eyes unfocused, one hand clutched to his face, the other swinging blindly.
Kaya didn't give him time to find his feet.
She kicked hard at the side of his knee; the joint buckled with a sick sound and he dropped onto one leg with a strangled howl.
His claws scratched uselessly at the air between them.
"Stay down," she muttered, more to herself than to him.
He didn't.
Even half‑broken, he tried to throw himself at her again, teeth bared, eyes wild.
That dead look was still there under the rage—like he'd already accepted whatever came next.
Fine.
Kaya stepped in close, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked his head down while driving her knee up into his face with all her strength.
