Then she spoke.
“…Cyrus sent you, didn’t he?” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the knife against her skin. “The persistent fool.”
The words had barely left her mouth before one of the men struck her hard across the face.
The impact snapped her head to the side, and a sharp sting immediately spread across her cheek.
“Where is she?” the second man demanded sharply.
Dorothy slowly turned her head back toward them, her expression unchanged despite the pain burning across her skin.
She said nothing.
The first man grabbed her again, his grip tightening as his voice lowered into something more dangerous.
“You better not test my patience, witch. Where is the girl?”
Dorothy looked at them both for a moment, studying them carefully as if measuring how far they were willing to go.
