"Sister Helen," Ravina muttered, voice sharp enough to cut glass—"no need to worry about it." She moved in closer, fingers clamped so tight on that soaked leather you'd think she was trying to snap it in two. "I met Dexter when we went to find food. And I caught him."
A cold smile twisted her lips. "He's our prisoner now. So he won't get anything from us. And if he can't heal you—" Her gaze flicked to me, sharp as a blade. "—then we'll kill him. He's useless otherwise."
I froze.
Evil.
The word settled in my chest like a stone.
I had come here thinking of their bodies—their strength, their submission, the way their skin would flush under my hands. I had imagined them kneeling, not by force, but by choice. By need.
But I had forgotten the most important truth of all.
This wasn't the world I knew.
This place? Total jungle—think teeth, claws, every woman for herself. Show a little kindness and you're toast; let your guard down and, well, let's just say "game over."
