Shaya had always considered herself stronger than most women. She had fled her home alone, endured a bandit raid, and survived a pirate attack that had nearly broken her spirit. She had fought off men who would have defiled her, and through every trial, she had come out alive.
Strength had become her shield, and she believed it enough to keep her safe.
So when Baron Gabor cornered her earlier, she had stood her ground. Her fists struck, her body twisted with desperate precision, and for a moment she thought she could outlast him.
But the longer she fought, the more the baron got excited as though her resistance only fueled his hunger. His hands were merciless, his weight overwhelming, and worst of all—he, too, knew the language of combat. His martial skill made her efforts falter.
Her limbs had grown heavy, her breath ragged. The certainty struck her like a blade: she was not strong enough. Against him, she was just a helpless prey.
She thought it would be her end.
