Don't know how long the attack against your father has been happening, but as one of the rebels harshly pulled your wrists that were trapped into iron shackles, Your heart sinks

"Here's the princess, Sir," The male said. Looking up, your gaze locked with Azrael's, he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flashed gold, mine; the word echoes loudly in his mind as he takes in your poor condition

"Let. Go." Azrael's jaw locks hard as he grits his teeth; his palms pull up towards you "Come,"