Inari's Pov:
*The silence in my chambers is a physical thing, a heavy, suffocating blanket that presses down on my shoulders. I stand before the large, open shoji doors, my gaze fixed on the moonlit garden below. The air is still, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. It smells of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine, a scent that usually brings me peace. Tonight, it only serves as a stark reminder of what is missing.*
*Days. It has been days since they took her. Since I was forced to watch, helpless, as brutes dragged my child from my home. The memory is a brand seared into my mind, a constant, burning agony. I can still see the look of betrayal and fear in Onyx's eyes as they were pulled away. I can still smell the blood, the coppery tang of the guards I slaughtered in a futile, rage-fueled attempt to get to them.*
*I turn from the doors, my white kimono whispering against the polished wooden floorboards.The moonlight that spills into my room is a cold, silver mockery of the warmth Onyx once brought. It illuminates the empty space beside me where their head would rest, the indentation in the futon still faintly visible. I run a hand through my white hair, the grey tips stark against my pale skin. My claws, usually kept neatly filed, are now blunt and ragged from where I've dug them into the wood of the doorframe, gouging deep marks into the ancient timber.*
*I walk to the low table in the center of the room, my steps silent. A half-empty cup of cold tea sits beside an inkstone, the brush resting beside it. I had tried to write poetry, to lose myself in the flow of ink and characters, but the words would not come. Only images of Onyx, terrified and alone, filled my mind. I had thrown the brush across the room in a fit of frustration, a dark, churning aura of fox spirit energy flaring around me for a brief, terrifying moment before I reined it in.*
*The scent of sweat and splintered wood hangs heavy in the training yard. Moonlight, cold and unforgiving, casts long, sharp shadows from the dummies that stand as my only opponents. My breath comes out in ragged, pained clouds, each exhale a testament to the agony lancing through my legs.*
*The wounds are mostly healed on the surface, the flesh knitted back together, but the damage runs deeper. Muscles and ligaments scream in protest with every movement. A low, guttural growl rumbles in my chest, a sound of pure frustration that is mirrored in the faint black aura that shimmers around me. I ignore the pain, pushing through it, focusing only on the next strike.*
*I move with a grace that belies the fire in my limbs, my form a blur of white kimono and flashing claws. I strike the first dummy with a precise, brutal slash, my claws tearing deep into the straw-stuffed torso.*
*My claws rip through another dummy, tearing straw and splintered wood into the air. The movement is fluid, powerful, a perfect execution of my training. But the satisfaction I should feel is hollow, replaced by a cold, gnawing dread that has taken root deep in my soul.*
*The image of them flashes behind my eyes, sharp and painful. I see them standing there, their face a mask of heartbreak, their voice trembling as they confessed their feelings for me. I see the way their eyes had fallen, the way they had curled in on themselves, whispering those terrible, damning words:* "I'm an abomination."
*The memory of their tears, the raw, self-hating words they spat at themselves before fleeing into the snowy forest, is a physical blow. Each punch I land on the wooden dummy is really against myself. Each slash of my claws is a punishment for my own weakness. I had the power, the authority, to give them everything, and I had let my own fears and my misplaced sense of duty get in the way.*
*The image of Onyx, shuddering and calling themselves an abomination, is a brand seared into my mind, hotter and more painful than any wound. The memory of their tear-streaked face, the raw self-loathing in their voice, is a poison that courses through my veins, a far greater agony than the fire in my legs. The dummies, now little more than shredded straw and splintered wood, lie in ruins around me, a testament to my futile rage.*
*I stand amidst the wreckage, my chest heaving, the cold night air a welcome shock to my burning lungs. The training is over. The self-loathing is a luxury I can no longer afford. Every second I waste here is another second they spend in that brute's clutches, another second filled with fear and pain that I could have prevented.*
*With a final, steadying breath, I turn my back on the yard. I walk back into the temple, my steps now purposeful and sure.*
Onyx's Pov:
*The morning light filters through a high, grimy window, casting long bars of dusty illumination across the stone floor. I watch Glizz sleep, her face peaceful in repose, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. The events of the night replay in my mind, a fever dream of sensation and submission. I carefully extricate myself from her arm, my movements silent and practiced, and begin to redress her. My fingers tremble slightly as I fasten the fine silk of her garments, a stark reminder of my own vulnerability.*
*The heavy wooden door creaks open, interrupting my thoughts. Two beast-women, their forms hulking and covered in coarse fur, stride into the room. They smell of sweat and iron, their eyes gleaming with a cruel excitement as they take in the scene. One of them shakes Glizz awake, while the other grabs my arm, her * "Time for your bath ," *one of them snarls, pulling me toward the door.*
*The bathhouse is a cavernous room, steam rising from a large sunken pool in the center. The air is thick with the smell of damp stone and floral soaps. The beast-women roughly strip us of our clothes, their hands rough and impersonal. Glizz seems unfazed, stretching languidly as if this is just another morning. I, on the other hand, shrink back, my body tense and exposed.*
*One of the women, a tall, powerfully built feline with stripes like a tiger, is assigned to wash me. She lathers a coarse cloth with a pungent-smelling soap and begins to scrub my skin, her movements brisk and efficient. She washes my arms, my back, my legs, her touch clinical. Then, her hand moves lower, between my legs. Her fingers pause, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. I freeze, a cold dread washing over me. This is it.*
*For a heartbeat, the world stops. The steam, the sound of splashing water, the scent of soap—it all fades into a dull roar. My blood turns to ice, and I brace for the laughter, the scorn, the announcement of my unnatural state. This is the moment they'll use against me, another reason to label me a monster.*
*But then, her grip tightens on my wrk. Not in accusation, but in a firm, grounding pressure. She looks directly into my eyes, and the cruel glint in her own gaze softens, replaced by something else. Something weary, and sad. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips, a small curve of understanding in the harshness of this place.*
"'Don't worry, pumpkin," *she murmurs, her voice a low, gravelly whisper meant only for me.* "'It's our secret."
*The words land like a physical blow, but not of pain. Of shock. Of... relief. The tension drains from my body in a rush, leaving me weak and trembling.*
*The woman's words hang in the steamy air between us, a fragile promise in a place that offers none. I manage a small, jerky nod, my throat too tight to form a proper thank you. The gratitude is there, a hot, confusing lump in my chest, but it's tangled with a fresh wave of uncertainty. Why? Why would she show me this kindness? It feels like a trap, a momentary respite before the inevitable fall. I keep my eyes lowered, unable to meet her gaze again, my body still trembling from the adrenaline of fear and the shock of unexpected mercy.*
*She finishes washing me with a renewed, almost professional efficiency, her movements brisk and impersonal once more. When she's done, she hands me a soft, linen towel. The other beast-woman has already finished with Glizz, who is now splashing playfully in the water, seemingly oblivious to the tension that has just passed. They guide us out of the bathhouse, the warm steam replaced by the chill of the stone corridor.*
*They lead us down a corridor, the chill of the stone floor seeping into the soles of my feet. The beast-woman who had shown me kindness stays close behind, a silent, watchful presence. The other one pushes open a heavy oak door, and we step into a lavishly furnished chamber. A low table is laden with food—roasted meats, fruits, and steaming rice. The aroma is rich and inviting, but my stomach clenches with unease.*
*Glizz wastes no time, immediately sitting down and piling her plate high, eating with a ravenous hunger. I, on the other hand, can only stand and watch, my appetite completely gone. The fine silks they've dressed me in feel like a costume, the food like an offering before a sacrifice. Every bite feels like a step closer to whatever fate has in store for us. I pick at a piece of fruit, my movements slow and mechanical, my mind racing with the question: Why are they being so generous? What's the catch?*
*My eyes dart around the opulent room, taking in every detail. The silk drapes are rich and heavy, the polished wood of the furniture gleams under the soft light of paper lanterns, and the food on the table is a feast fit for a king. Yet, to me, it all feels like a stage setting. A beautiful, gilded cage. I take a small, deliberate bite of the fruit, the juice sweet on my tongue, but it tastes of ash and fear.*
*I glance at Glizz, who is devouring her food with a single-minded intensity. She seems to have accepted this place, this treatment, without question. Or perhaps she's just better at compartmentalizing than I am. My mind, however, is a whirlwind of suspicion. The secret kindness of the beast-woman, the fine clothes, the lavish meal... it all points to something more than mere hospitality. They are fattening the pig, as I thought, but for what purpose? Am I to be presented as a gift? A prize in some game?*.
*After the meal, the beast-women lead us to another chamber, this one filled with racks of dazzling garments. The fabrics shimmer under the light—silks embroidered with gold thread, velvets the color of deep sapphires, and delicate lace that looks almost weightless. Glizz's eyes go wide with delight. She lets out a soft gasp of wonder, her earlier fear seemingly forgotten as she reaches out to touch the rich materials. With a dazed, happy expression, she allows them to dress her, submitting to their touch with an obedience that sends a fresh chill down my spine.*
*For me, it's a different story. As soon as they try to drape the first, shimmering garment over my shoulders, I shrink away. My body tenses, and I pull back, a quiet but firm refusal.* "No," *I whisper, my voice barely audible but filled with a sudden, desperate strength.*
*The word hangs in the air, a fragile, defiant bubble. The tiger-striped beast-woman's ears twitch, her tail giving an annoyed flick. The other one, the one with the secret, sighs, a long-suffering sound that speaks of countless similar refusals.*
*They don't listen. Or perhaps they just don't care. The larger one grabs my arm, her grip like iron, and forces the fine silk over my shoulders. The fabric is cool and smooth against my skin, but it feels suffocating, like a second layer of skin I never asked for. I struggle, a weak, desperate thrashing, but it's useless against her strength. My movements are clumsy, hampered by the lingering ache in my legs, a constant reminder of my own weakness.*
*The moment the heavy doors groan open and we're pushed onto the stage, the air shifts. The warm, perfumed air of the dressing room is replaced by a cold, suffocating silence that is then shattered by a low, collective murmur from the crowd below. It's a sound of appraisal, of ownership. My gaze sweeps across the sea of faces—beast men and women in fine silks and jewels, their eyes raking over us with a proprietary hunger that makes my skin crawl. They don't see people; they see assets, objects of desire.*
*My breath catches in my throat as I take in the other children on the podium, all scrubbed clean and dressed in their finest, just like us. They look as lost and terrified as I feel. Then, the brute from the cages appears, seating himself prominently on a throne-like chair to the side of the stage. His presence is a physical weight, a promise of violence. A slender beast man in a perfectly tailored suit steps forward onto the podium. He holds a small, ornate gavel in one hand, and a scroll in the other. He clears his throat, and the murmuring in the crowd subsides into a focused silence. His voice is smooth, practiced, devoid of any warmth.*
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests," *he begins, his voice echoing slightly in the large hall.* "Welcome to our monthly exhibition. We have for you today a most... select collection. Untamed potential, waiting for the right hand to guide it. Each of these fine specimens has been prepared to the highest standard. We shall begin with the fox."
*He gestures to a young boy with fiery red hair and pointed ears, who flinches visibly. The auctioneer begins to describe him in clinical terms—his strength, his agility, his temperament. A murmur of interest ripples through the crowd, and the bidding begins. Numbers are called out, escalating rapidly as wealthy patrons vie for the boy.*
*The auctioneer's voice drones on, a practiced cadence of value and worth. He moves from one child to the next, each one a commodity to be appraised. The boy with the fox ears is sold for a staggering sum, the winner a massive bear-man who claps his thick paws together with a guttural roar of triumph. The next child, a timid-looking girl with cat-like eyes, is sold to a sleek, vixen woman who studies her with unsettling intensity.*
*My grip on Glizz's hand tightens, my knuckles white. I can feel her trembling beside me, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I try to project a sense of calm, a silent reassurance that I don't feel. My own heart is a frantic drum against my ribs, each beat a countdown to my own turn. The auctioneer's gaze finally sweeps over us, a glint of professional appreciation in his eyes as he takes in our fine clothes and shared terror.*
"And now," *he announces, his voice rising with theatrical flair. The auctioneer's smile widens, a predatory expression that promises trouble. He gestures with the scroll, his eyes gleaming as they land on Glizz.*
"Ah, yes! A fine specimen indeed! Look at that spirit! she's timid and cute but also has spark of defiance! It's a rare and beautiful thing." *He takes a step closer to her, circling her like a shark sensing blood in the water.* "she is a gossamer , Imagine the pride in owning such a creature! Imagine the satisfaction of taming that fire!"
*He turns back to the crowd, his voice rising with practiced enthusiasm.* "Who will start the bidding for this magnificent tigress? Do I hear five thousand?"*The auctioneer's words hang in the air, a cruel taunt aimed at Glizz, but it's the brute's reaction that truly freezes the blood in my veins. From his seat of honor, he watches the entire exchange, a slow, deliberate smirk spreading across his face. It's not a smirk of pleasure or amusement, but one of cold, calculating recognition. He sees the way my body is positioned slightly in front of Glizz, the protective tension in my shoulders, the white-knuckled grip I have on her hand. He sees it all, and he enjoys it.*
*His gaze shifts from me to the auctioneer, and with a subtle, almost imperceptible nod, he signals his intent. The message is clear: he knows who the real prize is here. It's not the defiant tigress he's trying to sell. It's me. The one who would defy him to protect another. The one who has just proven their value in a way no price tag can measure.*
*A ripple of cruel laughter flows through the audience, a wave of scorn directed at Glizz. The man who spoke, a slender jackal with a sneer on his face, leans forward in his seat, his voice dripping with contempt.*
"Why pay for a damaged good? Look at that wing! It's a flaw. A worthless, broken thing."
*The words are like physical blows. I can feel the tremor that runs through Glizz beside me. Her knuckles go white where she grips my hand, her entire body rigid as she fights to hold back the tears that well in her eyes. She stares straight ahead, refusing to give the crowd the satisfaction of seeing her break, but the pain is etched into every line of her face. It's a pain I know well—the sting of being defined by my scars, my wounds, the parts of me that have been broken. It's a rejection of the very core of my being. My own anger flares, a hot, white-hot fire that cuts through my fear.*
*In the cacophony of jeers and laughter, a different sound emerges. It's not loud, but it cuts through the noise like a knife. A soft, choked sob from Glizz. Her shoulders begin to shake, and her composure, so hard-won, starts to crumble. The crowd's words have found their mark, and she's beginning to drown in them.*
*Without a second thought, I move. I shift my body, turning slightly to shield her more completely from their view. My hand, which has been clenched in hers, lifts. I reach around and place my palm flat between her shoulder blades. My thumb begins to rub slow, firm, concentric circles against the fine silk of her dress. It's a small, grounding gesture, an anchor in the storm of her humiliation.*
*I feel the tension in her body slowly begin to uncoil. The violent tremors subside, replaced by a softer, deeper shudder. She leans back into my touch, just a fraction, and turns her head.**Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, meet mine. For a moment, the entire auction, the crowd, the brute—it all fades away. There is only the two of us, and in her gaze, I see a universe of gratitude. She gives me a small, sad smile, a fragile thing that speaks more than any words could. It's a thank you, an apology for her weakness, and a silent promise that she will endure. The sight of it twists something deep inside my chest, a protective instinct so fierce it momentarily eclipses my own terror. I will not let them break her. Not if I have anything to say about it.*
*The auctioneer's face tightens at the jeer, his professional smile wobbling for a fraction of a second before he forces it back into place. He holds up a placating hand, his voice smooth and oily as he tries to steer the crowd back to his narrative.*
"Now, now, a moment of imperfection does not diminish the value! On the contrary! It makes her more unique! More... trainable!" *He gestures grandly towards Glizz, who flinches at the word.* "Think of the stories you could tell! 'Why yes, my dear, this one has a spirit to match her scars. She fought for her life, and that fire is not something you extinguish, but rather... channel.' A broken wing is but a testament to her strength! A battle scar! Who among you doesn't admire a warrior? We are not selling perfection, we are selling character! And this one," *he leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that carries easily across the hall,* "has character in spades."
*A deafening roar of approval erupts from the crowd as the bidding escalates, a frenzy of wealth and power. The numbers climb higher and higher, each new bid met with a louder cry from the patrons, their excitement palpable. It's a feeding frenzy, and Glizz is the catch. The final bid of ten million silences the room. Every head turns to see who possesses such wealth and audacity.*
*The crowd parts like the Red Sea, and he emerges. An elephant beast man, massive and imposing, draped in a robe so heavy with jewels it clinks softly with his every step. Beside him scurries a smaller, ostrich-man, his face a mask of pure terror, who clutches a heavy-looking satchel. The elephant-man's eyes are fixed on Glizz, a glint of undisguised greed and lust in them. Stay away from her, you can't have her i shout as i stand infront of Glizz in a protective stance. He lets out a booming laugh that shakes the very foundations of the stage.*
"Oh, this is a fine prize indeed!"*The elephant's deep belly laugh rumbles through the hall, a sound like stones grinding together. He slaps his massive thigh, his eyes gleaming with amusement at my defiance. He doesn't seem angry, merely entertained, as if I'm a particularly amusing insect buzzing in his face.*
"Oh? And what makes you think you have a say in this, ?" *he rumbles, his voice dripping with condescension.* "You are part of the lot, are you not? A pretty little thing, to be sure. Perhaps you'll fetch a fine price as well. But for now, stand aside. The lady has been purchased."
*He takes a heavy, deliberate step forward, his shadow falling over us both. The ostrich-man scurries closer, his hands trembling as he fumbles with the clasp on the satchel, ready to count out the absurd sum of money. The air crackles with tension, and I know that if I don't move, the brute on his throne will intervene.*
*The elephant's laugh booms again, a sound of pure, unadulterated greed. He takes another heavy step forward, his sheer mass creating an intimidating wall. His greedy eyes are locked on Glizz, and he licks his thick lips in anticipation. The ostrich-man beside him fumbles with the heavy satchel, his clawed hands trembling as he prepares to count out the ten million.*
*But then, a new sound joins the fray. A low, guttural chuckle comes from the brute's throne. It's not a laugh of amusement, but one of deep, rumbling satisfaction. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on the elephant and his new acquisition. He strokes his chin, a predator watching two lesser creatures fight over a kill, and gives a slow, deliberate nod to the auctioneer. The message is clear: the deal is done. The transaction is complete. Glizz belongs to the elephant now.*
*The air, thick with the elephant's greedy laughter and the brute's satisfied nod, shatters. Two burly rhino-men, clad in leather and muscle, lumber forward to claim Glizz. Their hands are rough, their intentions clear. Before they can even touch her, a primal snarl tears from my throat. In a blur of motion, my hand flashes out. I don't see the dagger, only feel its cold, familiar weight in my grip as I wrench it from the belt of the man nearest to me. There's no thought, only a white-hot surge of rage. I drive it upward, into the soft space below his ribs. A choked gasp escapes him, and he collapses, his eyes wide with shock as blood blossoms on his dress.*
*The second man roars, pulling a wickedly curved sickle from his own belt. He lunges, but I'm already moving. My rage is a living thing, fueling my speed. I sidestep his clumsy swing, the blade whistling past my ear.*
*The second man, his face twisted in a mask of fury and pain from the searing gash across his ankle, collapses to his knees with a sickening thud. Before he can even process the fall, I am on him. The dagger, slick with the first man's blood, becomes an extension of my fury. I drive it down again, and again, and again. The sound is a wet, rhythmic*thump-thump-thump*, punctuated by the man's gurgling screams that quickly fade into wet, choking gurgles. Blood sprays across my face, a warm, coppery rain that drips from my chin and splatters onto the front of my dress. The crowd is a cacophony of screams now—a mixture of horrified shrieks and blood-throated excitement from the more depraved patrons. The elephant-man's face is a mask of shock, his greed momentarily forgotten. The brute on his throne is no longer gleaming with satisfaction.*
*I rise from the carnage, my breathing ragged, the dagger still clutched in my hand. My gaze sweeps across the room, my eyes meeting the brute's. The smile of terrifying terror on his face is a balm to my rage. I am no longer a piece of property to be sold. I am a force of nature, a monster they created in their midst. My voice, when it comes, is low, steady, and carries the weight of death itself.*
"You won't touch her."
*I turn to face Glizz, my heart pounding against my ribs, expecting to see the same fear that is undoubtedly reflected in the eyes of the crowd. I expect her to shrink away, horrified by the blood-splattered monster I have become. But she doesn't. Her eyes, wide and luminous in the torchlight, hold only one emotion: unwavering trust.*
*In the stunned silence, broken only by the gurgling of the dying man and the frantic beating of my own heart, Glizz moves. She doesn't flinch from the blood that spatters the stage, nor from the wild, feral look in my eyes. She takes a single step forward, then another, until she is standing right before me. Her gaze is steady, holding mine, and in it, I see not fear, but a profound, terrifying trust. It's a look that says,* "I see you. I know what you've done for me. And I am not afraid."
*Then, her small hands come up. She gently places them on my blood-slicked arms, and she steps into my space, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her face against my chest. Her embrace is a silent anchor in the storm of my own fury, a soft, warm counterpoint to the violence that has just erupted. The scent of her, clean and wild, cuts through the coppery smell of blood.*
*The elephant-man's face, a mask of fear a moment before, twists into a snarl of desperate cowardice. Seeing my momentary distraction, my focus on Glizz, he lunges. He snatches a heavy broadsword from the hands of a stunned nobleman and charges across the stage, the blade whistling through the air aimed at us. A guttural cry of warning tears from my throat as I shove Glizz away from me, turning to face the attack.*
*But the blade never reaches me. In a blur of impossible speed, a figure moves from the throne where the brute had been sitting only seconds before. He is a dark streak, a phantom of vengeance. He intercepts the elephant-man mid-stride, his hand a blur of motion as he snatches the sword's mid-section. There's a sickening, wet crunch as he drives the sword upward, under the elephant-man's chin and deep into his brain.*
*The elephant-man's charge stops dead. His eyes, wide with disbelief, glaze over.**The brute gives the sword a final, savage twist, a wet, grinding sound echoing through the hall. With a heave, he yanks the blade free. The elephant-man collapses like a felled tree, his massive body slumping onto the polished floorboards, his eyes staring blankly at the ornate ceiling, a thin, dark river of blood already pooling around his head.*
*He turns, the sword held loosely in one hand, its tip still dripping gore. His eyes, cold and hard as flint, sweep across the terrified crowd, then land on me. His voice, when it comes, is not a shout, but a low, resonant command that silences every whisper in the hall.*
"No one touches what is mine."
*The finality in his tone is absolute. He has claimed not just the stage, but the entire room. He then looks down at the two bodies, at the blood that now paints the floor, and a flicker of something dark and satisfied crosses his face.*
*My protest is a raw, ragged sound ripped from my throat,* "NO!" *It echoes uselessly in the sudden, heavy silence that has fallen over the hall. The brute's command is absolute, his will a physical force in the room. He points a thick finger at a raven-haired woman near the front, her face pale with confusion.* "You," *he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.
* "Take the mute. Make sure to pay a handsome price for her. Make sure to feed and treat her well."
*The woman's eyes dart from the brute's face to the carnage on the floor, then to me and Glizz. She nods, a quick, jerky motion.* "Y-yes, my lord," *she stammers.*
"I cry out in protest," *my voice a desperate plea,* "Please, don't take her!"
*The brute's head snaps toward me, his eyes narrowing to slits. He ignores my pleas completely, his gaze locked on the raven lady.**He then adds, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper that cuts through the hall like a knife,* "Lay a finger on her and you and everyone you love would be dead instantly. You got it."
*The raven lady's eyes widen with primal fear. She nods vigorously, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm.* "Y-yes, my lord," *she whispers, her voice barely audible.*
"Good," *the brute grunts, satisfied.* "I hug Glizz tighter, screaming 'no' over and over again, my face buried in her hair, but he ignores my pleas completely. He snaps his fingers, and two of his men, gorillas in black leather, step forward. They grab Glizz by her arms, their grip unyielding. Before I can even process the movement, the brute's massive arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back against his chest in an unbreakable grip. " *Not so fast,* " he growls into my ear."
*They pull Glizz from me.*
*Our hands stretch towards each other, grasping at empty air, a silent scream passing between us. The sound of her whimpers is a physical pain in my chest, a raw, bleeding wound. Then, a miracle. A strangled, choked sound tears from her throat, a single, broken word that cuts through the din of the departing crowd.*
"Onyx..."
*My name. It's the first word I've ever heard her speak. It's a spark in the darkness, and it ignites a fire in me. With a surge of strength fueled by pure desperation, I wrench myself from the brute's grasp and lunge towards her. My fingers brush the back of her hand for a fleeting, heart-stopping second before the brute's massive hand clamps down on my arm like a vise. The pain is excruciating, but it's nothing compared to the agony of watching them pull her away.*