Kaya
I tried to scream, but the stranger's clammy hand clamped over my mouth so tightly I couldn't even part my lips. His grip was suffocating, his palm cold and damp against my skin, and before I could twist away, he was already dragging me to the side. His breath came in harsh, uneven pants from the effort of restraining me.
He cursed under his breath, fumbling to yank my wrists behind my back. The pull was so brutal it felt as though he might tear my arms straight from their sockets.
Hot, stinging tears welled in my eyes, blurring the shadows around us. I kicked, twisted, jerked my shoulders—anything to break free—but his hold was unyielding, like iron shackles.
"Calm the fuck down," he hissed. The unfamiliar voice made my fear spike. In a pack of barely forty people, I knew every man's tone by heart. This was not one of them.
