*Blair Claudette Cavanaugh’s POV*
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“Is that all you got, jerk? Hah! You punch like a lady.” I sneered and spat blood out my mouth, and I looked at the half-naked man, who punched me right in my face thrice now using his hard ice fist. This warlock is not going to be alive once I can escape from being tied down to this fudging chair.
“Hmm, for a helpless, vulnerable creature, you sure are still full of yourself, Your Lowness. Don’t worry. I’m just warming you up.” He replied, wearing an ugly familiar grin on his ugly face, and I licked the side of my lip, making me wince.
I hate this. I hate pain. I hate getting cuts. And I hate this human form of mine now. I couldn't do anything to save myself. I have been sitting here in this cage for… I don't know how long. Days? Or just hours? I don't have any idea.
I looked at him sharply, and all I saw was a person who looked like the man who killed my mate and me three decades ago. But it isn’t him. All I know is he is his son.