Zein was no stranger to beasts. He'd grown up on the sheer mountainsides of the North trapping Lycans for Fate's sake.

Confidence outright wasn't his forte, no. It was the frigid type of resolve, the near contentness that'd flow in his veins just by scuffling with such creatures.

You were supposed to be no different, another job with an albeit hefty sum Zein wouldn't turn down by a long shot.

But now, on the frigid plains, a muscle feathered in his jaw as he held his whip in one fist, his other white knuckled. Shoulders heaving, he stared you down with a quiet fury, silvery eyes alight.

He'd tried just about every trick in the book to get a magical creature as dangerous as you to relent to no avail. That didn't mean he was going to back down, however. No, this wasn't about payments anymore. It was a matter of pride.