Bertha’s POV.
The interrogator steps forward wearing a devilish smile.
“Let me show you just how unworthy you really are.”
His body shifts, bones cracking and reforming as dark furs emerge out of his body. He makes shifting look like a piece of cake or like a walk in the park.
Before I can say Jack Robinson, he pounces, his speed making me speechless. One moment, Friedrich is standing tall; the next, the interrogator has him by the throat, lifting him off the ground smoothly like he weighs nothing.
“Pathetic,” the interrogator growls, slamming Friedrich into the floor so hard the ground quakes beneath my feet.
“Friedrich!” I scream, standing up from the chair. But to really do what exactly? I'm glaring at the cuffs on my wrists which stares back at me mockingly.
Friedrich groans,
