Page 156 of Flameborne: Chosen
Ronen stood up then offered me his hand. As if the gesture was a signal, everyone else clambered to their feet as well, Harle hurriedly tying off the spit.
When I was upright, Ronen didn’t let go of my hand, but leaned in to murmur in my ear. “Don’t worry, it’s all in fun.”
I looked at him. “Worry about wh—”
“Are you sure about those guys, Bren?Reallysure they haven’t made trouble for you outside the trials?” Gil asked, walking closer. “They were playing dirty. And men like that don’t usually show a lot of self-control.”
“I’m sure.” I looked around. They were all suddenly somber. Tense. Not having fun at all. “Thanks for caring, but I feel like they’re already paying the price for—”
“Oh, so youhavehad other problems? Are you protecting them, Bren?”
“What? No! I just meant—"
“I don’t believe her,” Gil said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips. “Do you believe her Ronen?”
“But—”
“No,” Ronen sighed too.
“Me either,” Oros rumbled.
“Yeah, gosh, Bren, haven’t you learned?” Harle said, his lips twitching.
My heart raced. They were all on their feet and drawing closer to me.
I licked my lips. “Learned what?”
“Learned that we’re all in this together. And what happens to one of us, happens to all of us?” Ronen said solemnly. “You got down in the dirt thanks to those assholes. So, we need to clean you up.”
When I turned to question what he was referring to, the others launched at me.
I sucked in a breath to scream. But a hand clapped over my mouth and when I tried to claw the fingers from my face, another hand grabbed mine.
There was laughter and taunts, but I couldn’t hear the words as my vision tunneled—
—Grasping hands, deep laughter—
I screamed into that calloused palm, but now there were hands on my feet and legs, lifting me, other hands catching my arms and sliding to my back to take my weight.
—Bright, leering eyes and white smiles like fangs.
I could see their tongues when they licked their lips.
“There you go, see?”
“Don’t be scared—”
I was jolted back to the present by manacled grips on my ankles and wrists. Suddenly my mouth was free, and I could suck in a lungful of the chill night air. But I had a man at each limb and trying to pull from one only brought me closer to another—
—Too many, too strong. Keep smiling. Don’t challenge them—
“Stop!” I screamed, but the laughter and shouts were so loud, even I couldn’t hear myself.
Then we moved, they carried me, my body swinging between them like a heavy rope, and no matter how I struggled or screamed, they wouldn’t let me go—
—grip so tight I’d find fingerprint-shaped bruises the next day. Struggling just made their smiles brighter—
We reached the lake and they wouldn’t listen to my pleas.
