Myra coughed, the ash and smoke making her nauseous. Repulsed and furious, she’d never endured such treatment. Until now, hardship had been largely absent from her life. Before marriage, her father, Clive, had supported her; afterward, Dexter had showered her with love and affection. She’d lived an extremely sheltered life, a shared experience with Kayla.

Unfortunately, her usual protectors were unavailable. Clive was dead, and Dexter was being held down.

Myra fumed. “Where did you savage dogs come from? If you keep attacking people like this, you might—”

Her sentence trailed off into a pained cry as Mason tightened his grip on her hair, her face paling with the burning pain. Dexter lunged forward to protect his wife, but the men restrained him.

Mason slapped Myra, then stared at Dexter, letting out a sinister laugh. “Still tight-lipped, Mr. Fuller? I have all day, but your wife might suffer a while longer.”

“Let her go, you bastard!” Dexter struggled desperately.

Had Kayla gotten help? Had she alerted anyone? If no one came, he'd likely be beaten; he was terrified for Myra.

As expected, Mason clicked his tongue, his gaze lingering. “You look so young, Ms. Fuller. Your skin is still so soft. No wonder you were known as Khogend’s most beautiful woman. You’re still as pretty as ever. My heart aches to see you cry.”

Mason’s hand brushed across Myra’s face. When she resisted, he slapped her again. Her hair was a mess. Slightly afraid, but it was too late; Mason was ripping open her shirt.

“Let go of me! Don’t touch me—you animal!” Myra screamed hysterically.

Dexter, pinned to the ground, broke free, growling as he lunged at Mason. Mason dodged Dexter’s punch. Despite a bleeding nose, Dexter, blood trickling down his chin, tried to console his wife. “Don’t be afraid…” he whispered.

“A lovely couple,” Mason scoffed. “Since you insist on the hard way, I’ll continue. Give them hell, boys!”

Mason’s lackeys rushed Myra and Dexter. One picked up a weapon and struck Dexter’s head.

“No!” Myra’s eyes widened as Dexter’s body convulsed, blood flowing from his head. His vision blurred; his grip on Myra loosened before he lost consciousness and fell, his survival uncertain.

Mason pursed his lips. “Did I ask you to stop? Carry on!”

Even if alive, Dexter would die if the beating continued. Crying, Myra shielded his body, stubbornly protecting her husband.

Just as another blow was about to fall, the man holding the weapon froze, crying out in pain. Confusion reigned as multiple silver needles flew through the air, piercing the men. They yelled in agony.