Thud.
A kick to the ribs. He coughed, curled, tried to fall—but Aran wrenched him upright again.
“Say something,” one of them growled. “Go on. Beg.”
Isak whimpered. Another blow split his lip wider.
“GET OFF HIM!” Einar roared. He slammed into the bald soldier, driving him back into the wall.
Aran blinked at him. Said nothing.
“You’re really just gonna stand there?” Einar shouted, his voice shaking with fury.
Aran looked at me. Then at him.
“Walk away,” he hissed.
The bald soldier snarled and lunged, slamming into Einar from the side.
They hit the ground hard, grappling. Another soldier rushed in, seizing Einar’s arm, but Einar twisted free and drove his fist into his face. The man crumpled with a grunt.
The thick-necked one raised his rifle and swung it like a club. The stock cracked against the back of Einar’s head. He dropped to his knees, groaning, blood running down his temple.
Still, he staggered back up.
Still, he fought.
I surged forward.
“STOP!”
But hands caught me from behind, strong arms locking around my waist, pinning me in place.
“LET ME GO—!”
“Kera.” The voice came low by my ear, cold and steady. Too close. “Stop.”
Arche.
The soldier from the bakery.
Holding me back.
I thrashed, nails raking down his arms. He didn’t strike me, didn’t join the beating, just kept his grip locked around my arms, steel and restraint. Einar was back on his feet. Barely. He staggered, blood in his hair, and looked over his shoulder.
Right at me.
Then—
A sound.
Loud and sharp, like lightning splitting the sky.
Einar’s body jolted. His mouth opened. He blinked—and fell.
Collapsed, like someone had pulled the bones out of him.
A high-pitched ringing filled my skull, drowning out everything. Blood spread across his chest, blooming too fast. Far too fast.
