Moana’s POV

The rough hands gripping my arms were unrelenting, forcing me forward no matter how my legs stumbled beneath me.

My feet scraped over the cold stone floor, every step jarring my knees, but the men didn’t slow. I barely had time to breathe, let alone to ask where they were taking me or why.

The corridor seemed endless, lit only by a few flickering torches that threw long, twisted shadows on the walls.

My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out almost everything, the clinking ...