He doesn’t speak, though. Instead, his fingers come to my jaw, an iron grip. My hands claw at his forearm, but it’s no use. He’s too strong. And one jerk of his wrist is all it takes for the back of my head to smash against the wall.
That’s when he steps backward.
When I stumble forward.
Stars dance before my eyes, and the room spins.
I reach out to steady myself, but there is nothing to hold onto, only air. He’s saying something but I can’t quite make out his words as my knees buckle, and I drop to the floor.
That’s when I feel his hands on me. Powerful arms lifting me. The room going black around me, arms hanging limp and useless as he carries me out of the compound and into the night.
* * *