"P‑please! I have kids!"
The scruffy man's voice cracked as he choked on his own breath. His face was a ruin of swollen welts and dried blood, one eye swollen shut, his split lips trembling as he clung to the arm gripping his neck. Both hands were mangled, fingers bent at impossible angles, but he clawed desperately anyway, nails snapping as he tried to pry the iron grip loose. His legs kicked weakly in the air, boots scraping against the damp stone of the sewer wall.
"You should have thought of your kids," the woman holding him said. Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but carried a cold weight that struck deeper than a shout. Her arm didn't tremble, her stance didn't shift as she held him aloft like a rag doll. "Before deciding to join the Demon Lord faction."
