Dila gritted her teeth. Her hand clenched into a shaky fist, pressed tightly against her aching side.
"What do you want this time?" she said sharply, eyes locked on the masked figure. Her breath trembled—but her voice didn't.
"If you're planning to take me again... I won't go."
She took one step forward—but staggered.
"I'll fight you… with whatever I have left."
Her knees buckled. Pain spiked through her ribs like a knife. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she dropped to one knee, hand gripping her left side.
"Ghh—!"
"—Sister!" Fran spun around at the sound, eyes wide with panic.
She rushed to Dila's side, not hesitating for a second.
Without asking, Fran knelt and slipped one arm under Dila's knees, the other behind her back. In one smooth motion, she lifted her onto her small but steady back.
"Up you go," she whispered.
"Wait—Fran?" Dila blinked, surprised.
