CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Sarah stands against the wall. She scratches at the stone behind her, waiting for a streak to meet her next.
The streaks strike every slave they meet. All the other slaves seem to know what the streaks mean, not moving, and only roll their eyes before the streaks put them to their knees. The slaves scream out, but only for the split second after the streaks touch them. The power coming from each streak keeps the slaves to the floor for a solid five minutes before they can attempt to breathe, let alone move.
Sarah’s heart races. She anticipates when the streak will find her, but has no idea what to do when it does. She is the last slave standing. Sweat slips its way down her forehead, rolling down her neck and into her cleavage. She licks her salty dry lips, watching
