AMARA’S POV

I have been in this position once before.

Once, I have had a thin rope tied around my neck as air seized from my lungs. Black dots tainted my vision while tears slipped from my eyes. I remember being so weak. I remember hating being so weak.

I also remember my attacker’s face. It was a face I could never forget, even if I wanted to.

My father.

That man taught me everything I know. His training sessions was an attempt on my life every day. Most fathers would treat their ...