(LIAM'S POV)
The barrel of the gun pressed cold and unforgiving against my chest, right over my pounding heart. I could feel the metal's icy bite through the thin fabric of my sleep shirt, a brutal reminder that one twitch of a finger could end everything. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, the forest air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. Fear clawed up my throat like a living thing, choking me. These weren't rescuers. These were likely predators, and I was the prey dropped straight into their territory.
"Qui es-tu? Réponds! Comment as-tu échappé de ta cellule? Qui t'a aidé? Combien d'entre vous se sont enfuis?"
(English translation: "Who are you? Answer! How did you escape from your cell? Who helped you? How many of you ran away?")
