She's on the opposite side of the mob, clutched in the arms of one of the Kings who followed me to my bunker. He has one hand clamped over her mouth and the other across her stomach, lifting her. Pratt struggles, kicking both legs into his but he drags her back with ease. Looking behind him, he makes for the far left flank.
No one sees. They're still gathered around the fight, which Tetlak hasn't broken up yet. Where is he?
Pratt will be gone any second. It ignites a spark of adrenaline but as I start for her, a hand slips over my own mouth, crushing my jaw under a steel grip. I'm slammed back into a stone body, an arm cutting across my stomach. He picks me up, retreating, and we're out of the crowd in seconds. My arms are bolted to my side so I swing my legs as hard as possible. Finding his, I kick over and over, jamming my heels into shins. He only crushes me tighter.
"Hold still, bitch."