Chapter 135 – Barking Dogs
The sneering adventurer at Kent Ventross's side chuckled, licking his lips as though savoring some foul thought.
"Young master," he drawled, "when you're finished, how about letting us have a taste of whatever's left behind?"
Another of them snorted in agreement, his grin wolfish.
Kent didn't even turn toward them. He simply smirked, adjusting the cuff of his embroidered sleeve.
"Well… it won't be anytime soon, but if I tire of my new toys, perhaps I'll throw the scraps to you. Heh."
The laughter that followed was coarse, hungry.
Sylvie's hands tightened into trembling fists. The words stabbed into her like knives, dragging with them all the whispered stories she had heard from other slaves—stories of women discarded, broken, passed from hand to hand until nothing remained of their souls. Pale, she shrank behind Lirael, seeking shelter in her gentle presence.
