We were trapped. We had nowhere to run. The cloaked man stepped forward, one hand outstretched in a show of surrender, of mercy.
Scarlett had slapped me on the cheeks until I woke up, the pain in my shoulder threatening to take me under with each breath I took. She was shaking uncontrollably as the man approached us, casting a cold shadow over where Scarlett rested on her knees beside me, with the dead wolf on my other side.
I was covered in its blood. I could feel it starting to dry against my skin. I wanted to vomit–I needed to, especially as the man stepped into the cave and grabbed me roughly, forcing me into a seated position with one hand forcing my elbow into my side. I gritted my teeth against the pain, looking up into his startling pale green eyes. He had a long, jagged scar that ran from his left temple down across his nose and along his right cheek.
He maintained intense eye contact with me while he gripped my elbow.
“Do it,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes.
