"I can't— I can't breathe!" she gasped, her voice trembling as she thrashed against the ropes. Her limbs strained violently, her wrists twisting against the restraints as though they were wrapped around her throat instead of her arms.
"Get me out!" she cried, her voice raw, barely above a whisper—but in the deathly silence of the room, it echoed like a scream. Desperation clawed at her throat as panic took over, every second stretching unbearably long.
One of the shadows stirred.
He moved quickly but silently, stepping up behind the taller figure—his superior. He leaned in, voice low, urgent, but laced with calculation.
"Sir, I think she's having a panic attack," he said quietly, eyes still trained on the girl. "Should we intervene?"
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then the shadows stilled, waiting for the boss's response.
Dain heard it—the soft shuffling of feet echoing through the darkness like the movements of predators in the tall grass. Quick. Controlled. Calculated.
