_Mira’s POV_ The rogues circled me. I could see their cruel eyes gleaming in the dim light of the cave. I felt trapped. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as one of them dug his boot into my arm, pinning me down. His sneer sent a chill through me. “Oh, look at this one,” he jeered. “She is trembling. Poor little thing.” Another rogue stepped forward, his hand reaching down to grab a fistful of my hair. He pulled my head back roughly, forcing me to look at him. His grin was full of malice. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” he mocked, his voice low and taunting. “We’re just going to have a little fun.” I twisted, trying to pull free, but he yanked my hair harder, sending pain shooting through my scalp. Another rogue laughed, stepping closer. His fingers brushed over my cheek and this made me shiver in disgust. “She has got spirit, doesn’t she?” he laughed. “Makes it all the more satisfying.” “Stop… please,” I managed to whisper, my voice breaking. But they only laughed louder as if my pleas were nothing but fuel for their sick amusement. “Listen to her,” one sneered. “Begging already. Thought you were stronger than that?” “Hold her down,” another commanded. “Can’t have her squirming around. Might hurt herself.” Rough hands grabbed my arms, twisting them behind my back. My blouse tore as one of them tugged at it, the fabric ripping under his fingers. “Look at her,” one of them taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. “A little lost lamb, all alone in the dark.” “She is ours now,” another added with a sneer. “No one is coming for you, princess.” The words cut deep, filling me with a sense of hopelessness I had never felt before. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to block out their voices, their hands, their cruelty. In the depths of my mind, I sent a silent, desperate plea to the Moon Goddess. “Please… please, Moon Goddess, help me.” But the rogues just kept going, taunting me, tearing at my clothes, laughing as I tried to twist away from their grip. “She is a fighter,” one of them laughed, wrenching my arm painfully. “But that will just make it better.” One of them leaned close, his breath hot against my face. “No one to hear you scream. No one to save you. This is it for you.” “Hey!” A voice boomed through the cave, cutting through their laughter like a knife. “What is going on here?” The rogues froze, their hands dropping away from me as they turned toward the entrance. My heart stuttered, and I looked up, my vision blurry with tears. A tall, powerful figure stood there, his dark hair shadowing his intense and angry eyes. The rogue with his boot on me snarled. “Who do you think you are to just barge in here?” The dark-haired man’s gaze locked onto mine for a moment. I could see something fierce and protective flashing in his eyes. He took a step forward. His expression hardened as he looked at the rogues. “Get away from her. Now,” he ordered, his voice cold as ice. One of the rogues laughed and pulled out a knife. “Oh, too late for that. She is ours.” The man barely blinked. “Wrong. She is not yours.” Without another word, he lunged forward, fists swinging. His men followed him in, each one moving with deadly precision. The cave filled with the sounds of the fight—fists connecting, grunts of pain, and the rogues’ angry shouts. The man with dark hair fought like a beast, his punches fast and brutal, knocking the rogues back. I watched them. My body ached and I was barely able to comprehend what was happening. One rogue came toward me, but the dark-haired man was quicker, intercepting him with a fierce punch that sent him sprawling to the ground. When the last rogue was down, silence fell over the cave. My rescuer turned to me, his gaze softening as he knelt by my side. He gently lifted my head and cradled it in his arms. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, filled with concern. I nodded weakly. I was too exhausted to speak. The pain throbbed in every part of my body and tears blurred my vision as I looked up at him. He glanced over my bruises and cuts. He frowned and he seemed to be angry. Carefully, he brushed his fingers against my arm, and when he lifted his hand, his fingers were stained with my blood. His expression darkened and he called over his shoulder. “Jason, she is bleeding. Get me something to wrap her wounds.” Jason, one of his men, immediately stepped forward, pulling off his shirt and ripping it into strips. He handed them to the man, who gently wrapped my arm. His movements were quick but he was very careful with me. It was as if he was afraid of hurting me. “You are safe now,” he murmured, his eyes filled with reassurance. “They won’t hurt you anymore.” I tried to keep my eyes open, to hold onto the safety I felt in his gaze, but the exhaustion was too much. Darkness began to pull me under, and I let it, finally letting myself fall into the quiet void. I knew that I was safe in his arms.