Zaara's POV
My hands were trembling.
Blood dripped from the crowbar I didn't even remember picking up.
I dropped the crowbar.
Jojo stood beside me, panting hard, one hand pressed to her stabbed shoulder, the other gripping Vincent's lifeless arm.
Neither of us said a word.
He didn't even look human.
We just dragged him.
Vincent's body was heavy as hell, his mask still smeared with dried blood. Jojo's shoulder was bleeding out, and I could barely hold my grip. But we kept dragging him…one step at a time, back into the main trial room.
His boots scraped against the metallic floor, leaving a thin red trail behind.
He wasn't dead. But he was out cold.
And I prayed..God, I prayed he stayed that way.
We dragged him through the hall and into the main room.
That's when I saw it.
The main room… it wasn't the same anymore.
Bodies.
Scattered like discarded trash.
Everywhere.
Some slumped against walls with their throats slashed.
