Chapter 72: Hidden truths
Allen’s gaze cut sharp as a blade, watching Nyra kneel before him, her eyes flickering with that familiar foxkin fire—but there was something guarded, like she was holding back a damn vault of secrets.
He pulled back, voice low and dangerous. "You said some wild shit about the Rhelgar family and slaves the other day. Spill it. What aren’t you telling me?"
Nyra’s lips pressed tight, eyes darting away like she was calculating whether to fight or fold. Silence stretched—thick and tense—before Allen’s patience snapped.
SMACK!
His hand landed hard across her cheek, echoing through the hut like a thunderclap.
Nyra’s head jerked to the side, eyes wide, heat flushing her cheeks—not from shame, but from the sharp shock of reality cracking through her stubborn pride.
Allen leaned in close, voice a razor’s edge. "No more hiding. Tell me everything."
She swallowed hard, voice trembling but honest now. "The eastern foxkin tribes? We’re backed by the Rhelgar noble family. They’re the reason we can walk these streets dressed like humans—with real clothes, real weapons."
Nyra’s eyes darkened, haunted. "But that support comes at a price. Every month, the tribes have to pay tributes to the Rhelgars. Not gold, not land... but slaves."
Allen’s brow furrowed, but he kept silent, waiting.
"Sex slaves... sacrificial slaves," Nyra whispered. "Those without homes, outcast beastkin—we’re the ones taken. The foxkin who belong to the tribes aren’t used as sacrifices, no. We’re the ’normal’ slaves, the ones who serve and fuck. But the homeless... they’re given up to be sacrificed."