= Amara =
I tried to fight them.
That was the first mistake—believing I ever had a chance.
The moment my wrists were wrenched behind my back, rough rope biting into my skin, I felt it. Not just restraint, but drain. The fibers burned cold, seeping into me like poison. Wolfbane-threaded rope. I knew it instantly, the way my strength faltered, the way my wolf recoiled deep inside me with a whimper instead of a snarl.
“No—” I gasped, twisting, kicking, nails scraping uselessly against stone.
I struggled harder.
Another mistake.
The first blow came from the side—hard, precise. Pain exploded along my ribs, knocking the breath from my lungs in a strangled wheeze. I folded instinctively, but the ropes held me upright, merciless.
“Hold her,” a voice said. Male. Calm. Detached.
Hands gripp
