Draven's Point Of View
"Don't you fucking touch her!" I roared, my voice breaking into a jagged, bloody snarl as I threw my whole weight against the mercenary pinning me down. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, but I didn't care anymore.
Pain had become background noise, a distant thing that belonged to someone else, something happening to a body I no longer fully owned.
The guard's heavy combat boot slammed back down right onto the side of my face, grinding my cheek straight into the cold, filth-streaked concrete floor. Grit and old bloodstains pressed into my skin, the stench of rust and motor oil filling my nose until I could taste it at the back of my throat.
Another heavy boot struck my ribs with a dull, sickening crunch that knocked every drop of air straight out of my lungs.
