“No, no, no. Please let me go, I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Nothing wrong? Did you not just lock-lips with a man knowing that your fiancé was only mere metres away already suffering a broken heart,” the woman snarled kicking her to the ground.
The woman gestured for Wynta’s supposed fiancé to come closer. She held out a gun.
“Shoot your traitorous bitch, Aaron,” she spat.
Aaron froze in alarm.
“What are you saying Sharon? I can’t shoot her.”
Sharon glowered at the wincing Aaron.
“You bloody coward, I’ll shoot her then.”
He lunged forward and pulled Sharon’s arm that held the gun away from Wynta’s cowering body.
“Dad needs her back in Ordspy. They need to run some tests, see what went wrong.”
Sharon chewed her lip, considering what he said.
“She’s dangerous. How do you know that this isn’t what she planned, a way to get back into the city; a way to destroy us from the inside?”
“Dad’s Demics have discovered a mutated strand of the chemical, it does the reverse of what it’s meant to – it encourages the use of less brain cells rather than more. Memory loss isn’t a side effect of withdrawal rather it is an effect of taking it.”
He grinned, proud that he was able to remember and properly enunciate the details and facts.
“Are you saying that rather than kill her you would prefer to destroy her slowly,” Gryffon growled lunging towards Aaron. He was able to slam into him, sending them both sprawling, before Aaron’s fighting instinct overwhelmed his stupidity. He planted a large hand on Gryff’s chest and pushed himself up. He spat on the ground, the spittle thick and red, before grabbing Gryff’s collar and heaving him to his feet.
“Don’t pretend you know her better than me,” Aaron thundered, spraying Gryffon’s face with his bloody spit. “I have known her for years, we live together. Then you and your fellow Inferiors kidnap her, drug her, lie and manipulate her. You even have her thinking she has feelings for you that you return.”
His grip around Gryff’s throat tightened as he bared his blood-stained teeth. He brought his large paw back and slammed it into Gryff’s face.
Wynta flinched at the crunching sound.
“Is that all you got?” Gryff slurred. Aaron kneed him in the stomach and through him to the ground in response. He knelt on his wrists, keeping them in place, before he punched him in the face again. Blood streamed from a gash on Gryffon’s swollen cheek and a jagged bone protruded from a tear on his jaw.
“Stop,” she screamed, “don’t hurt him anymore. Take me. Don’t hurt him, please.”
A hand lashed out, knocking Aaron off the battered Gryff, and waking up from his bloody rage.
“Don’t Wynta,” Gryff gargled.
“I have to,” she sighed. Leaning down she brushed her lips against his forehead. “When you recover, you’ll come and save me. There’s this drink bar I used to frequent. I’ll be there waiting for you, even if I don’t realise it.”
She smiled and stroked his hand before rising and allowing herself to be handcuffed and hauled away.
“I’ll see you soon,” she called over her shoulder.