Raven
I was fully aware when Rex suddenly lifted me, hauling me over his shoulder as though I weighed nothing. My body didn't resist. It couldn't. I was too drained, too hollowed out to fight back.
Even screaming felt like a waste—whatever strength I had left was already slipping through my fingers, and I refused to spend it on something that wouldn't change anything.
So I stayed limp against him, my arms hanging loosely, my cheek pressed against his back. The world tilted with each step he took, but I barely reacted. Still, I could hear them—every word, every tone, every shift in their voices.
"I'll run. You both can transform and head back," Rex said, his voice loud and certain, cutting through everything else.
If I had the energy, I would have laughed. Or scoffed. Maybe both. The consideration in his voice made something bitter twist in my chest. As if any of this was kindness.
