"No, wait, don't-agggh!"
I closed my eyes, turning away as the last guard flew across the room, ribs protruding from the gaping hole in his chest. The hallway was a mess of blood and gore–what little remained of a patrol of slavers–but hardly unique. We'd left several such massacres in our wake, brutally slaughtering every slaver we came across.
Fable shook the blood from his coat and padded over, looking at me curiously. I snuck another glance at the bodies strewn across the corridor, my tail curling despondently.
"I'm alright," I said, my eyes flicking to the door behind where the slavers had stood. "Let's just get this over with."
As my hand rested on the doorknob, I hesitated, anxiety twisting within me like a bow. This was it. The last slave room, marked with a big "10" in the center. She was going to be here. She had to be.
