Soren
It was exactly two hours before dawn when the doors of the cells were unlocked, and three guards marched inside, the crests on their uniforms flaring brightly in the dark.
"Up, traitor," the guard spat, unlocking the chains from the ground. He left them on my wrists though, hooking them to my feet.
He probably thought it was a wise decision. With a different prisoner, he might have been right. But if I wanted to, even in chains and the bullets still lodged in my shoulders, one so close to my heart, he'd already be dead.
I rose to my full height and he shuffled back. He was a small man. Five foot nine.
I thought if he spat at me one more time, I would bash his head against the stones and make a mosaic of his brain matter.
Thankfully, he got the idea and blanched, letting the hybrid enforcer behind him take my arm instead and yank me out of the cell.
"Her Majesty would like a word."
