The whip descended.
But Kael moved first.
His body lunged forward, throwing itself between Rourke and Tomas. The lash struck across his back, fire tearing through his flesh. He didn't cry out. He stood tall, blood soaking into the dust.
Rourke snarled. "You dare—"
Kael's voice thundered, rough but unbroken: "Enough!"
The word silenced the yard. The other slaves froze, hoes dangling in their hands, eyes wide. Even the air seemed to stop.
Rourke laughed, cruel and sharp, lifting the whip again. "Big words from a chained dog."
Kael's hands shook. His despair still pulled at him, the rope still whispered from the shadows. But Tomas's small hand clutched his arm, trembling, holding him upright.
And in that touch, Kael found his answer.
He wasn't standing for himself. He was standing for Tomas. For all of them.