(Author's POV)
Victor Smith's razor sharp claws dug into Brave's flesh and peeled of the skin from his chest. His legs unbuckled and with a thud sound, he was on his knees in an instant. The blood kept poured from his flesh wound and drenched his white shirt, turning it into a shade of blood red, crimson. But he did not even howl even after that. He did not want to show his weakness to those bastard rogues. His pride was on the line and so was his sister and Myra's life.
