I press my cheek against the cold stone, my MP-40’s iron sight fixed on the enemy soldiers just meters away. Their words hang in the dusty air like a noose—“Free labor. The women serve and the men work ’til they die. Learn to use every part of the animal.” I can taste the fear in the street, the acrid smoke from the burning trucks, and the bitter truth that these men see us as nothing more than livestock. My finger tenses on the trigger. This isn’t just a fight for survival. It’s a reckoning. I will make them pay for every word, every life they’ve broken.
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