At the sound, Merlin and Margaret gasped. They turned and saw six men approaching, grins stretched across their faces.
The burly man stared at them intently and snorted coldly. "You're quite troublesome, kid. But that's fine—I do enjoy torturing brats."
He clenched his right hand into a fist and rubbed it with his left. The others mimicked the gesture, making Margaret instinctively step back in fear.
"What should we do?" she asked frantically, hiding behind Merlin.
Yet, as her eyes settled on Merlin's broad back, a strange sense of safety washed over her. Without realizing it, her body leaned against him, and the familiar, soothing scent of his presence enveloped her once more.
Merlin gripped her left hand firmly and fixed the six men with an indifferent stare.
"Who exactly are you? Are you part of some notorious kidnapping syndicate?"
He recalled that, according to the novel, Margaret had never been kidnapped. The databook had no mention of such an event.
