Chapter 17

• Surrender seemed inevitable. My body was in no shape—mentally or physically—to fight back. Against them, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Were they even human? Slowly, I nodded, agreeing to go with Mr. Larkspur. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth as he grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the blood-soaked room. His eyes scanned me, and with a disapproving click of his tongue, he made his disdain clear.
• I must have looked pitiful.
• The simple white dress I wore, once clean and unassuming, was now smeared with blood—deep crimson streaks covering me from head to toe. My feet, body, and tangled hair bore the same grotesque stains. Trembling from the biting cold and sheer terror, I met his gaze, praying silently for an end to this nightmare.