Kiera's P.O.V.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to rush to him, tear this man apart, and pull Damian from the pain that seemed to pulse through me with every blow. But my body remained frozen, paralyzed by the fear of what would happen if I made a move. If I did something, anything—would they kill him? Would they kill us both?
I couldn’t breathe. Every time the stranger’s fist landed against Damian’s body, it felt like a new shard of ice had been driven into my chest. I wanted to look away, to shut my eyes, but I couldn’t. I had to see him, even if it destroyed me. Even if watching him bleed, watching him endure that agony, tore my soul in two.
Damian was still defiant. Still fighting. I could see it in the flicker of his eyes, even through the blood. He was a warrior to his core—resilient,
