"Catch him!"
The captain of the guards' coarse voice exploded in the darkness.
Teresa's green eyes glimmered in the dark, clearly seeing the slave trying to escape ahead.
It was a frail young boy whose ankles had already been rubbed raw by chains, yet he continued to run desperately forward.
Teresa felt like her heart was about to leap out of her throat; she instinctively stepped back but almost tripped over the chains beneath her feet.
At that moment, a thin but powerful hand grabbed her wrist.
"Don't move."
Quinna's voice sounded in her ear, deep and calm.
"Ah—"
The sound of a whip slicing through the air reached them, followed by the boy's piercing scream.
He wasn't the only one.
Teresa saw the guards swinging barbed leather whips, brutally lashing at slaves who dared to resist.
Blood splattered, and the air was thick with a metallic smell and pitiful wails.
"Close your eyes," Quinna whispered.
