Wolf's Death

Wolf, injured but still standing, glanced over at Marty with a grim expression.

"We all need help," he muttered, wiping blood from his brow. "Get a signal out for reinforcements, now."

Ryan's face fell. "We can't… the signal's jammed. I didn't even realize until now. Ivo had us chasing him so hard, we didn't see the trap."

The realization hung heavy in the air—this whole situation was an ambush. Victory wasn't on anyone's mind anymore. Survival was.

Amid the despair, Lyra stepped forward, gripping her hoverboard. "I'll go back for help," she said firmly.

For a moment, a flicker of hope passed through the group at the sight of the hoverboard. But Wolf's expression darkened.

He stepped closer to Lyra, towering over her. "You're a healer, right?" he asked, his voice low, eyes sharp.

"Yes," Lyra responded steadily.

Wolf's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Then I order you to stay and treat the injured. Give me the hoverboard."