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temple. The great titan toppled over as the blow echoed through the barn. He landed in a heap of straw with a thud. The crowd was deathly silent, all of them gawking at Jake, whose face was riddled with welts and bruises and looked like he had wandered into a hornet's nest.
                  McClanahan rushed to Malic's side, slapping his face. “He's... out cold,” he said in disbelief.
                  Jake did not wait for a second opinion. He walked out of the circle and began unwrapping his fists, trying to mask his disdain.
                  “You did it, bouyo!” Shamus cried gleefully, coming out of a wall of bodies. “You just made me a week’s pay in a day! And it's still morning!” Shamus said with a laugh, patting him on the back.
                  Jake shrugged. He felt numb. “What difference does it make? No matter how much I fight, there's always one more. Their bloodlust can't be sated.”
                  Shamus nodded. “That's why this is such a good business!” he said with another laugh. “I say a celebration is in order. Free drinks for the whole lot of you scallywags! Whaddya say?” Shamus held up his winnings, and the crowd cheered.
                  Jake couldn't take it anymore; these people disgusted him. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his inner beast at bay. Slowly but surely, he was losing his grip. Jake stepped out into the brisk snowbanks outside. The wind howled at his back as snowflakes pelted his bare skin, melting on his flesh. It was soothing. The cold helped abate the anger.
                  Jake counted the money Shamus had given him. $500, a fraction of the whopping $10,000 he had just banked. Jake didn't care, though, so long as it was enough. He had had enough of Shamus, of this whole rotten country. Everyone in the states was so full of greed and hate. He couldn't take their black intentions any longer. They were wearing on his very soul.
                  Jake had a plan, though. He was going to leave the country. He had wanted to for quite some time now, but it had been too risky. Ras' Guul had kept his promise. That they would always be hunting him. Over the years he’d had several close encounters with one of Ras' Guul's cult. The cult ran deep, and had infiltrated several government institutions all across the states. Not all of the members were monsters, either. Some were just worshipers, low-level humans hoping to rise through the ranks and make some powerful connections. The cult had a vast information network, and Jake's name was red flagged. So he could never use it. Not for anything important. He didn't even dare to get a bank account. On paper, it had to seem like he didn't exist at all. For a while, Jake had thought that this was his fate, that he would never be able to leave, but then he met a man who claimed he could get him across the border unseen, without going through customs. Once Jake made it into Canada, he could go to any country he wanted. All the man wanted in return was $300 cash.
                  Jake checked the clock on his phone. It was time. He slipped on his shirt and overcoat, checking to see if anyone was watching. There wasn't a single soul. They were all still drinking and gambling. Even as Jake started up Shamus's rusty old pickup truck, he knew no one would be able to hear him. Then he slipped off into the night, bound for some diner in the city. That's where the man met his clients. He was Jake's last hope for freedom.
                  “Hey, watch it!” Jake growled at some girl who bumped into him on his way into the diner. She had been in such a hurry she had practically run him over.
                  “Sorry,” she said dismissively, and disappeared.
                  Jake shook his head and sat down in the left hand corner, away from the windows, just like the man had