Page 112 of Scavenger's Oath

But I’m not her anymore. I can’t be.

I twist my body and fight to get free. Any marks they leave will be mirrored by Bennett when he sees but—

What am I thinking?!Am I seriously hoping for Bennett to defend me when he’s the one who sent them?

“It’s been over a fucking month,” one sneers. “Six weeks of walking through shit towns and freezing nights 'cause of you.”

A heavyweight crushes down on my legs. One of themstraddling me, pinning me to the floor even more. My knees won't move as I try to kick him off.

“She's not wearing underwear,” he says breathless with delight, dragging his fingers up my thigh, smearing something wet…my blood.

His hand climbs higher, until his dirty fingers are cupping me between my legs. “You run around like this now, huh? Bet you've been spreading your legs for whoever is feeding you.”

I’ve survived through worse than this. But this is the first time I’ve wanted more than to just lay here and live through it. I want to fight. To prove I’m not theirs—not Bennett’s.

I suck in a deep breath and scream. The desperate sound rings out, piercing through their laughter before a hand slams down over my mouth.

A flash of movement and a roar tears through the room. Primal, animalistic, and familiar. Every vein in my body freezes before my heartbeat pounds faster.

I know that sound.

The weights on top of me disappear and I curl onto my side, finally able to breathe properly. I blink rapidly as my vision begins to clear.

Just keep breathing. Keep breathing.

The first thing I see is Myles on top of one of them, fists hammering furiously.

He’s here! He came!

The sound of meat hitting meat, and bones cracking are all I hear as I watch the brutal onslaught.

Blood sprays the floor, up the walls. The guy isn't even fighting back. His body is already limp.

I’ve seen violence before, but my stomach still turns, nausea washing over me as terror smothers the momentary relief.

Myles looks cold-blooded as he savagely attacks…but he’s fighting for me.

A tooth skitters in my direction and my focus tunnels on the bloody molar. I should be terrified. But warmth trickles in until my chest is flooded with relief. All I can feel in this moment is… safe.

The big guy shouts and lunges, a blade flashing in his hand. But Myles blocks it with his arm before jumping to his feet. He rams the guy into the wall with a forearm to his throat, the drywall buckling.

That’s when I see the knife still sticking out of his arm.

“Myles!” I shriek, my chest caving at the sight.

But he yanks the knife from his forearm, blood gushing from the wound. Then flips it and drives it into the guy’s thigh, then stomach, then throat.

Screaming. Choking. Silence.

Myles turns, his eyes wild, red streaking across his face, chest heaving. The sight is harrowing but he’s not looking at me. His eyes search frantically until they land on the third guy trying to crawl away.

Trying. He’s clutching his right leg which has a huge hunting knife stuck in it.

Myles charges him and grabs onto his hair, the other hand coming under his jaw before he twists and snaps his neck.

Then stillness again.

Just blood. Broken bodies. And Myles panting heavily with his back to me.