Praetorian Rising, стр. 35

A second soldier lunged at her, sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, angling to slice right through her. Her body jolted awake at the imminent threat, and she pivoted away, the motion tearing out a chunk of her hair. Her scalp bloomed with pain and tears pricked her eyes as she swayed on her feet, feeling a sense of powerlessness at the mercy of these men.

"Have some training, do you?" the first soldier said with a crooked grin, shaking her loose strands from his meaty fingers. His teeth were pearly white and straight, his face, though possibly considered pleasant, contorted with a nasty sneer of disgust making Camille shiver.

He didn't give her a chance to respond before slamming her head against the tree trunk behind her. She slumped to the ground, her vision swimming as her skull pricked with the rushed urgency to heal itself. Blood crept down the side of her neck, warm and wet, as both soldiers standing in front of her laughed, discussing what to do next.

"You grab her feet, I'll get the top," the first soldier said as he reached for her hands.

"That would be a mistake," Camille gasped, desperately trying to regain her equilibrium. "You should run while you still have a chance."

"Camille!" Vesyon roared a mere ten feet away. "Get away from her, you filthy dogs!"

She should've been able to fight them off, to protect herself, but as one man took her ankles and the other reached under her armpits, Camille's instincts barely flinched.

They pulled her just out of eyesight behind a sizeable flowering bush, dropping her carelessly on the mossy, mud-slicked ground. One man gripped her waist and began to tug aggressively at her pants, his dirt-riddled nails digging into her skin.

"Cam, where are you!" Theo screamed, voice brimming with terror.

She squirmed at the soldiers' efforts, scrambling to get away as one soldier managed to slip a hand inside her pants while the other groped at her breasts.

"It's been far too long since I've touched a woman. Fight all you want, little girl—no one is coming to save you," the first soldier said, grabbing greedily at her naked hips.

He groaned and shuddered with excitement as he pinched her flesh, telling his comrade to hold her down. "This one has some meat on her, and I want to see it!"

The second soldier ripped her shirt and vest wide open as he grappled to press her arms into the mud. One hand cinched down her windpipe to hold her in place as Camille heard the first soldier's pants hit the ground by her feet.

A small voice, piercing and unrelenting, broke free from the depths of her soul. There was no way she was going to let this happen. She would fight to the death if she had to; fear be damned. Camille slammed her boot heel against the first soldier's crotch.

"Agh!" he wailed, slumping over her. Camille felt the familiar rush of blood flow through the tiny veins around her eyes, and she practically whimpered in relief. Her Praetorian instincts took over, and she lost herself to the motions, no longer crippled by panic or pain.

Punching upwards, her fist struck the chin of the soldier holding her down. As his comrade fell forward, they collided into each other with enough force that she was able to pull up her pants and scoot away from them both. With the flood of Praetorian instinct surging through her veins, she allowed a tiny smile to flit across her face as she righted her clothing the best she could.

"Got a little fight in you, eh? Think this is fun?" the second soldier growled, spitting blood on the ground and wiping at his busted chin. "Good—I like 'em feisty!"

He lunged toward her again, sword in hand. Camille evaded the blade and yanked him into a headlock, twisting his chin with such violent force that she heard the quiet pop of his spine snapping. She dropped his dead weight on the forest floor like a heavy sack of grain, then removed a small knife from his belt. The first soldier gawked at her, his pants still down and his hands cradling his groin.

"I told you," Camille said as she wiped the sticky wetness of blood from her cheek, "that attacking me was a mistake."

The guard backed up and tripped over a tree root, crashing over it as Camille pursued him. She pulled his hair as hard as he'd done to her, driving the blade straight into the side of his neck.

The soldier's face went white, his eyes bulging purple as his mouth opened and closed like a beached fish.

"Struggle all you want," she said, throwing his words back at him in a smooth, whispering lilt, "no one is coming to save you."

"Who are you?" he gurgled.

Camille removed the knife from his neck and watched the dying man's crimson blood coat her forearm, trailing into her shirtsleeve. "My name is Camille Scipio, and I'm a Praetorian."

"Camille?"

She spun with a menacing snarl, but it was only Theo jogging through the trees. His blue eyes moved from her bloodied weapon and torn clothing to the dead men beside her and understanding darkened his features.

"They came at me.  They almost they pulled my pants down—they were going to—" Camille blubbered, dropping the knife beside the first soldier's slain form as her entire body began to shake. What have I done?

"It's okay, you're okay," Theo said as he approached with slow, calculated steps. She shifted warily but didn't move away from him despite her desire to bolt. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I need to see your head. It's bleeding a lot."

"I killed them," Camille said as Theo gathered her close, pulling her head to him to inspect the damage. Her knees buckled, and she fell against the solidity of his frame, horrified with the pool of blood billowing out from the soldiers' lifeless corpses.

The ground was littered with dead bodies, many