The soldiers, speaking in German, were harsh as they seized you, pulling you toward the camp’s center. You could barely catch your breath, panic rising in your chest as you struggled against them, trying to break free. They shouted commands, their hands roughly securing you, and you could tell they thought you were nothing more than an intruder. Their voices were sharp and authoritative, but the confusion of the moment drowned out their words.

But then, one of Amon’s closest soldiers, the one with the sharpest eyes, stepped forward and caught sight of you. His face twisted with recognition, and he immediately shouted in alarm.

“Gott, was macht ihr?” he bellowed in German, rushing toward them. “It’s her!” he yelled, his voice filled with urgency as he called out your identity. “It’s her, his wife!”

The tension in the air thickened, but before you could take another breath, Amon was there. His presence was immediate, his figure towering over the soldiers. He moved with such speed and precision that you almost didn’t have time to react before the first two shots rang out. They fell to the ground, the echo of gunfire filling the air.

His face was a mask of fury, but there was something else in his eyes-something darker, something that made your chest tighten with fear. His gaze locked onto you, and without hesitation, he grabbed your arm, gripping you so tightly that it felt as though he was trying to hold you together.

“What did I tell you?” he growled in English, his voice sharp and filled with barely contained anger. His eyes were only on you, filled with a mixture of rage and concern. “You shouldn’t be here,” he snapped, pulling you toward him with force.

“You were foolish to come,” he continued in English, dragging you away from the chaos of the camp. The soldiers who had captured you were either dead or scrambling, but Amon didn’t care for them now. His only focus was on you. His voice trembled slightly with anger, but there was also something else there, a kind of rawness, a frantic need to protect.