Author's point of view

Kyle's boot crunched over broken glass as he adjusted Shea more securely in his arms. Her weight was light— to light for someone so fierce— and her head rested limply against his chest. A streak of dried tears cut through the grime on her face.

His men finally stormed down the stairs, their blades drawn. Their eyes widened at the carnage. Three bodies lay scattered, one in a pool of his own intestines with a missing manhood, another with his skull carved against ...