Pain.
That was the only word Aamir's mind could understand.
His ribs screamed. His back throbbed. His lungs were barely holding onto the concept of breathing. He tried to slide back, crawl away, do anything—but before he could retreat even an inch, a hand clamped around his ankle like a vice.
"No—"
He wanted to scream, to vanish, to turn invisible. Anything but this. But the grip around his ankle was unbreakable—like steel wrapped in anger. His mind raced.
"Is this how it ends?"
The world tilted—and then the floor came up like a fist.
The word barely left his lips before he was lifted off the ground like a ragdoll.
And then—
SLAM.
His body struck the temple floor with bone-rattling force.
SLAM.
Again.
SLAM.
And again.
Each impact stole a piece of him. Ribs cracked. Breath vanished. The air tasted like iron and dust. Thoughts dissolved into pain.
He couldn't even cry out anymore. Just survive. Just hold on. Just—
