At first, I wondered why they bothered to put us on the wagon. Surely, throwing us over the shoulders of the big guys like before and running out of Castiana would have been faster. Still, thinking it over, it made sense. Hauling us on their shoulders would restrict their warriors if they needed to fight, not to mention that, according to them, they had no choice but to leave the Sahal Empire. That meant that unless something happened, Elira, Vara, and I would be in for a long ride.

"Move it, bitch," Bouncer growled, shoving me when I dragged my feet leaving the room. Obviously, stalling for time when the bastards were in a hurry wasn't just my idea. Vara and Elira were doing the same, with the same result. They pushed us all into the hallway we came from. But instead of going back out the main entrance onto the street, we headed deeper into the house - toward the back entrance.

‘The fuck is that…’

The moment my eyes fell on the wagon stationed there, the cage mounted atop it, panic crashed into me, sharp as claws, cold as death.

'No, no, no… please, no…'

Obeying my "master's" orders to make it easy on myself and save my strength for the right opportunity was one thing, but being locked in a cage was another. A cage meant no freedom, no movement, no fight - just submission. Once inside, there was no getting out until someone opened the lock - no escape, no hope.

'Even if I turn into a full beast...'

The thought tore through me like ice. A shudder ran through me at the memory of the shackles that had almost taken my hands and feet. I didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if I shifted while locked up with Vara and Elira in the same cage. Blood, bones... madness.

'No, this is my last chance to do something,' I thought just a few steps from the threshold leading to the backyard of the moneylender's house. My heart raced, every beat echoing louder, faster - a caged animal itself, trapped beneath my ribs. As slim as my chances were, this was my last opportunity to fight to get my freedom back.

'It had to be, didn't it?'

Chances were, I could only make it worse for myself.

'What could be worse, though?'

Well, I didn't have to think long about the answer. Death would be a mercy compared to what awaited me if I failed and got to the meeting point with the mind-bitch. Just thinking about having her back in my head twisted my thoughts into a knot of panic…

"I said, move it!" The snarl jolted me from my spiraling thoughts. Another shove from the bouncer almost sent me stumbling out the door into the courtyard where the two guardswomen were being hustled by a bruiser woman towards the wagon and the cage on it.

"She looks like she wants to kill someone," the slaver chortled when a growl escaped my throat, unaware of how close he was to the truth. My fingers twitched, dread gnawing at my mind. I couldn't breathe. The air seemed thick as a soup, suffocating me. Deep in my heart, I hoped I'd never have to do this again. Yet, when the bouncer went for another shove, something inside me - something dark and savage, snapped.

It all happened in a flash - instinct took over, the beast in me rising, ravenous and untamed. I moved out of the way with the grace of a predator. Then, spinning on my heel, almost instinctively, my claws slashed out - hungry and unforgiving - ripping across the big male’s bandaged throat.

Everything stopped. My breath. His. The world.

The man stared at me in disbelief, trying to make sense of what had just happened. So did the slaver standing behind him, trying to squeeze past the hulking man now unfathomably blocking the door.

"What the fuck, man?"

He did not, however, get an answer. Instead, when the bouncer's mind caught up with what had happened, his hands shot to his throat, his face twisting in a horrible, choking gasp. Blood gurgled from the wound, hot and thick, flooding his mouth. No potion could save him this time, or so I hoped as I watched him fall to his knees, his gargling breath almost drowned out by the pounding in my ears. The blood soaked into my claws, still half-shifted, still... foreign, disgusting. The ease of the shift was baffling - terrifying.

The silence was suffocating, the weight of what I'd done crushing down on me, wrapping around my chest like iron chains. I couldn’t undo it. Couldn’t take it back.

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"The fuck?" Bewildered for entirely different reasons, the slaver had no idea what to make of what had happened. "Boss, are you crazy? Why did you order her to...?" His words trailed off, unfinished.

As I had hoped, since I didn't use any of my weaves, the collar on my neck remained silent, not hindering me in any way from moving again.

"...y-you..."

I didn't even think. Thinking was for humans. This? This was something else - some bestial instincts or experience I'd rather not have. Again, my claws found the prey’s throat, a flash of brutal precision. Slaver's hands went up. Not fast enough, though. Blood sprayed, painting the walls in dark streaks, splattering on my face - warm, metallic, gut wrenching. Like his bouncer packmate, he slumped to the ground, choking on his own blood.

'The illusions wielding one...?'

The urge to tear him apart gnawed at me, growing by the second, but I pushed it down. Not now. Not yet. The beast wanted to show him the price for messing with us twice, but I couldn’t afford to waste my time with him, not with others like Ward and his goons - and the fire-wielder - around. Even the beast recoiled from the thought of him and the pain he caused us. No, no matter how much it went against my pride, it was time to tuck my tail between my legs and run - to get out of here before that fat little bastard would get his wits together and decide to shout some orders.

'Not alone, though.'

Once before, I had been forced to leave those who suffered in slavery with me, my pack, behind. 'Never again.'

Turning sharply, I flapped my wings and surged toward the massive bruiser, now having trouble with the two guardswoman. While Elira pretended to stumble and then from the ground kicked the woman in the crotch with all her strength, Vara slammed into her. As if they'd done this many times before, Elira, still on the ground, timed it perfectly - hooking the bruiser’s legs, sending her toppling with no chance of regaining balance.

The large female holding her crotch went down with a groan while the painful screams of Vara pierced my ears. The scuffle with the bruiser was too much for her battered body and her legs buckled beneath her.

"No! Go!" Elira yelled into her gag, seeing me rushing towards them. It didn’t stop me. As such, she rolled over to Vara. Just in time for me not to have to jump between them to cut their restraints. No sooner had the pieces of rope hit the ground than we were on our feet, Elira and I on each side supporting Vara and heading for the carriage gateway out of the courtyard.

Of course, before we even reached it, two Shadowbreakers, the swordstress and shadow thief, were already standing in the gateway. Their sneering expressions saying it all: "Did you really think you could get away?"

I could smell their arrogance - no, I could taste it. Slick, cold, it made my teeth grind as the beast within clawed at my ribs, itching for a fight. Not to be cornered. Too late.

In less than two breaths, my muscles locked as my 'master's' command hissed in my ears. "Stop, wench." The words slithered into my mind, coiling around my will, strangling it. I didn't even need to look through my domain to know that the rest of the goons were now standing behind us.

* You have slain [Bouncer - Rurik Cragborn: 89 sigils]

'Well, not all of them. Not anymore.'

"Don't you dare move, you..." Rutledge barked, his voice trembling, gasping for breath, which a short run had robbed him of. "Stop breathing. That's an order!"

Unlike the heartbeat, breathing was something a human was able to control and as such, hearing my ‘master’s’ words, my chest tightened, the air in my lungs suddenly feeling like poison, thick and choking. Even that deranged asshole Dungreen never gave me such a vile order.

‘You… f-fucking… bastard…!’

The world seemed to narrow, the edges of my vision blurring as panic clawed at my mind. But beneath the panic, something darker stirred - the beast within me bared its teeth. It wouldn’t die like this. We wouldn’t die like this.

"No need, Arlo," said the male with a funny floral scent, Ward, placing a hand on the slave trader's shoulder. His voice was calm - unnervingly calm, like he wasn't standing in the middle of a bloodbath, like he wasn’t deciding how to punish me. "Please."

"Y-Yes, Mr. Ward," Rutledge stammered. "You listen, I'm canceling my last order."

Relief didn’t come. I sucked in a breath, but the feeling of Ward’s gaze digging into my skin remained, cold and unyielding.

"Excellent. I assume you've barred her from using her weaves."

"Yes. Except for the ones for her to heal herself. If..."

"That won't be necessary. Anyway, I see that when it comes to slaves you know your stuff, Arlo," Ward cut a not-too-sincere compliment to Rutledge, his eyes never leaving me. "A natural half-Terr'den shifter. That's definitely worth a good deal of money. Still a far cry from what I should be getting for you, Miss Grey, but I can understand now what caught Deckard's eye. They say actions are worth a thousand words and I have to agree. Few would have the guts - or the instincts - to do what you did in your situation."

A snarl bubbled at the back of my throat, the beast within me stirring, pacing against the bars of my ribcage.

* You have slain [Slaver - Stone Penhale: 95 sigils]

The notification hit me like a hammer to the chest.

"Boss! Stone is dead. She killed him, too," the young workhand yelled, the loss of his packmates evident in his voice.

"And I certainly like your style. Under different circumstances, I would have loved you working for me, but..."

Whatever the floral-smelling male said next I didn't hear as my knees nearly buckled with yet another notification echoing through my skull.

* 98th sigil was engraved on your array