“All she knew was that she was exhausted. They had been walking for what seemed like hours, and without food or drink. Thankfully, Connor had let her stoop and quench her thirst at a small creek, but her throat was burning again and she felt the dry air sting her nose. Her wrists were bound with a piece of rough rope, and during the long march from the old shack it had gradually wound its way into the skin until it bled. Her hands didn’t even feel like her own anymore—they were just figments of ...pain, an agony that burned like a match head behind her eyes every time she closed them. She had pleaded with her captor to let her go, and when that had failed at least to unbind her, but he was resolute. She had been terrified at first, back in town. She now saw why the other Ursas had fallen so easily into his sway, and why only Blake seemed able to stand up to him. There was a callousness in his eyes, a weariness watched with a calculating mind that was menacing. She rubbed the bump on the side of her head where he’d smacked her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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