The rogue moved before Florian could react—grabbing Cashew by the collar and yanking him off the ground. The boy let out a strangled cry, kicking, clawing, fighting uselessly against the man's grip.
'Fuck.'
"Let him go!" Florian shouted, lunging forward—but the man's other hand shot out and seized his wrist, twisting until pain shot up his arm. Florian gasped, biting back a cry.
The princesses screamed. Their voices cut through the air—sharp, breaking, terrified. Athena's shrieked his name; Scarlett's voice cracked with pleading. Their cries blended with Cashew's, with the sound of struggle, with the sound of fear.
"Stop struggling," the rogue hissed, his grip tightening cruelly. "Makes it easier if you just give up."
But Florian couldn't. Wouldn't.
He jerked his arm free, nails scraping against the man's armor, desperate. The rogue shoved him hard, and he stumbled backward, nearly falling.
Cashew seized that single moment—sinking his teeth deep into the man's arm.
