“Good!” she clapped lightly.“That looks much better.”
“A shameless bitch like you deserves to be seen exactly as she is.”
The others followed her, laughing, applauding,like wolves watching a slow kill.
I stared at them, trembling,every breath sharp and burning.
“You will regret this,” I said hoarsely.
Every one of their faces.Every sneer.Every laugh.
They burned into me.
And I swore,even if it cost my life —they would pay.
Lyra stepped closer.Slowly.Deliberately.
She placed her boot against my cheek and pressed down hard.
Stone bit into my skin.My vision swam.
“In this territory,” she whispered,“no one makes me regret anything.”
“But I can make you regret ever being born.”
She lifted her foot.Then turned.
“Take her,” she snapped.“Drag her to the punishment grounds.”
At Lyra’s order, several female attendants immediately rushed forward and seized my arms.
Ignoring my struggles and cries,they dragged me across the stone path all the way to the punishment grounds.
Behind me,two long trails of blood smeared across the floor —my torn feet scraping against the cold stone step after step.
When we reached the punishment yard,they threw me to the ground like animal waste.