The horse’s hooves pounded like war drums against the broken stone, its breath coming in frantic bursts as it carried Damien and Zara deeper into the ruins. The fog clung to them, swallowing every path, every escape. Behind, the guttural roar of the Tyrannosaur still echoed, a sound that shattered the night like thunder.
Zara dared to lift her head. The massive silhouette stalked the streets, its bulk breaking through walls as if the city itself were nothing more than paper. Its reptilian eyes burned with predatory hunger. She had seen the undead rip n apart, but this—this was sothing older, sothing that belonged to the earth before mankind dared to walk it.
“Damien!” she gasped, her voice almost stolen by the wind. “We can’t outrun that thing!”
“We’re not outrunning it,” Damien growled. His eyes scanned the ruins ahead, asuring, calculating. “We’re surviving it.”
The street ended abruptly in a collapsed bridge, its skeletal remains hanging over a black gorge. The horse slid to a halt, rearing in panic as the beast’s steps grew louder behind them.
Zara’s pulse spiked. “We’re trapped!”
“No,” Damien said, swinging down from the saddle. He pulled her with him, his hand steady, unshaken despite the thunder closing in. “The city’s full of traps—ruins stacked on ruins. That monster’s heavy. If we use the ground against it...”
The rest of his plan vanished in the tremor of colossal footsteps. The fog parted, and the Tyrannosaur’s skull-like head lood above them. Its mouth opened wide, teeth gleaming like wet blades, a low growl rolling from its throat.
Zara clutched Damien’s arm. She felt the beast’s breath—hot, fetid, alive. “What if it doesn’t fall?”
Damien’s gaze hardened. “Then we fight until it does.”
The dinosaur lunged forward, but Damien was already moving. He shoved Zara toward the shadows of a half-collapsed archway. “Stay low!”
The monster’s head crashed down, jaws snapping, teeth tearing into the bridge remains where the horse had been monts before. The poor beast shrieked once, then was dragged screaming into the fog. Blood sprayed across the rubble.
Zara bit her lip to stop from crying out. The sound of tearing flesh was worse than the moans of the undead.
Damien drew the hatchet strapped to his back—small, pitiful against the mountain before him, yet steady in his grip. He glanced at Zara, eyes fierce. “That roar will bring every corpse for miles. When they clash, we move. Understand?”
Her nod was quick, fearful, but resolute.
The Tyrannosaur raised its head, blood dripping from its jaws, and bellowed a roar that shook the dead themselves awake. Across the ruins, the groans rose—a tide of hunger stirred by the sound.
And then, impossibly, the two horrors faced each other: the horde of the undead spilling from the streets like a flood, and the ancient predator standing above them, claws and teeth eager for prey.
Zara’s breath caught in her throat. For the first ti, the dead weren’t looking at her. They were looking at the beast.
Damien seized her hand. “Now we run.”
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