In the hunting ground's central villa, a group of men lounged in leather chairs, their eyes glued to the screen in front of them.
The footage showed me, terrified and running for my life from the relentless hounds. Mud splattered across my face, leaving me in utter humiliation.
A hundred-pound hunting dog leapt onto me, teeth sinking into my arms as it dragged me down.
The men, dressed in tailored suits, burst into laughter.
"Liam," one of them said, grinning smugly, "I got that dog from the champion pit at the fighting arena. It's a beast. What do you think?"
"Tomorrow, we'll go hunting. Whoever lands an arrow on Emily gets three hundred grand."
The room erupted into cheers, the excitement palpable.

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