Lara
They weren’t gentle about it.
Ha. Funny that I used the word gentle in the same sentence as my father's warriors. There was never anything soft about the man. So why would his dogs know how to be anything but cruel?
I groaned, dragging my aching body upright, my limbs sluggish, unresponsive.
I peeled myself up from the thin mat beneath me. My clothes clung to my skin, still a little damp from the heat bath I’d taken earlier—a luxury that now felt like a distant hallucination. My head pounded, each throb like the crack of a hammer splitting stone. Which, in fairness, was close enough to what had happened.
Back in our apartment, they'd dragged me out of the bathroom, no warning, no explanation. I hadn’t gone quietly. I kicked, screamed, fought like hell. Then something cold and ha
