#Chapter 64: A Traitor’s Head

Neil The stone floor was unforgiving as I hit it for the second time, the rough surface scraping against my cheek. I spat a wad of blood out onto the ground, my arms twisting violently against the iron grips of the warriors holding me down. I fought like hell—had been fighting like hell since the moment they dragged me into the dungeons. They’d overpowered me, and now their boots pinned my arms to the floor, their weight enough to keep even someone like me from breaking free. But I thrashed anyway, refusing to give them the satisfaction of my surrender. “Keep him still,” one of them growled, the strain in his voice betraying the effort it took to restrain me. I heard a laugh, then felt a hard boot roughly press my face into the stone floor. The cold air of the cell bit into my skin, every breath sharp and painful as I struggled against the hands holding me down. I fought like hell, kicking and snarling, but it was no use. There were too many of them.