With a low shout, Francesca tightened her fist and launched the first attack.

Chantelle sneered, calmly met her with one hand, and effortlessly brushed her punch aside. She was just about to mock her when a sharp whistle cut through the air, so fast it made her skin crawl.

"Oh no!" Chantelle's eyes widened in alarm. She jerked her neck back instinctively, craning it up as something flashed downward like lightning.

Above her, Aspen's dagger had sliced through the air so fast it left a faint afterimage behind.

"You…" Chantelle's shock turned into fury.

Was Aspen really going in for the kill?

Damn it. No wonder she was trained by Andrew—just as ruthless and unorthodox.

With a snort, Chantelle twisted her body like a pouncing panther, pushing off the floor and springing upward. Her right leg shot high and strong, kicking straight at Francesca's punch mid-air.

Francesca let out a muffled groan. Unable to withstand the blow, she stumbled backward from the impact.

Chantelle