Dustin's words reverberated in Arlo's mind, a tumultuous storm of fury and confusion.
"You must have seen the scars on her body; they were inflicted by Ryan and my father. She is a plaything to both of them."
Arlo's gaze fell upon Inara, a plea for answers in his eyes. But the sight of her, trembling and shaking with fear, still kneeling and unable to lift her head, sent a jolt through him.
Without a moment's hesitation, Arlo moved towards her, sinking to his knees before her. He reached out, gently taking her quivering hands into his own, a silent offer of solace. As his fingers brushed against her skin, tears welled up in her eyes, spilling onto her knees.
A flurry of questions swirled in Arlo's mind as he tried to comprehend Inara's ordeal:
Does she harbor a desire to kill Ryan and his father?'
'Does she yearn to escape this living nightmare?'
'Does she wish for the sweet release of death?'
