The last blow is a boot to the back of the head. Dmitry falls forward on his face, his cheek pressed into the dirt, and he doesn’t get back up.
I hold my breath, praying he isn’t dead.
When he groans in pain, it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.
He tries to lift himself up, but his arms give out, and he falls back into the dirt. Elena, who has been standing on the sidelines throughout the beating, steps forward.
“That’s enough for today, I think,” she says. “Take them to the cell, boys.”
The Tiger and another guard grab Dmitry while Devon comes to take me and Olivia. He reaches out a hand to lay it on my back, but I shrink away from him.
“Don’t be shy,” he whispers. “You’ll have to get used to me eventually.”
Getting used to Devon would be like getting used to poison ivy.
In the en
