Zoe POV

I'm on the floor and I can't get up.

The warrior's knee is in my back, one hand grinding my wrist into the stone, another pressed flat against the back of my skull. I twist. I drive my elbow back. I get nothing. The grip doesn't shift by a single inch and that only makes me angrier, so I scream—at the warrior holding me, at the one by the door, at Vark standing somewhere above all of this watching it happen.

"Let go of me! Get your hands off—"

Nobody ...