Eric's screams tore through the quiet night, raw and desperate, as Ryan dragged him back toward the camp. He kicked, clawed, and twisted in the older man's grip, but Ryan held fast, his expression grim as he ignored the prince's thrashing.
Eric's bare feet scraped against the rough ground, the pain of each step a searing reminder of his failure. The brief taste of freedom had turned to ash in his mouth, and all that was left was humiliation, despair, and the tightening grip of his captor.
The moment they reached the camp, Ryan pushed aside the tent flap and shoved Eric inside. The young prince collapsed onto the dirt floor, gasping, his body curling inward as sobs wracked his frame.
Ryan knelt beside him, grabbing his wrist. The iron shackles in his hands clinked as he moved to lock them back in place.
Then he froze.
His sharp gaze landed on Eric's skin.
