SAMANTHA
Leslie was stunned.
I could see it in her eyes. The way they widened, the way her face went pale. She saw fire and anger in Jayce's gaze. The kind that did not forgive. The kind that burned. She realized that Jayce was not playing...then she began to beg.
Her voice was trembling and I could tell that her soul was shaking like a leaf.
"Mercy, please. Your Majesty. Mercy!"
His brothers just sat there. It seemed they were in support of Jayce teaching Leslie a lesson. Neither of them said a word nor did they try to stop him.
With those harsh words still hanging in the air, Jayce raised his foot again. He kicked her in the chest.Leslie skidded across the floor like a discarded rag. Her body slid past two rows of kneeling women. Her arms flopped and her dress shamefully rode up. No one cared to help her.
"Ou!" Leslie groaned.
She rolled toward me. Her body came to a stop at my feet. Her hair was messy, her face red and her chest was heaving.
