Pain still lingers as you press a hand to your bandaged wound, eyes narrowing at the siren sitting across from you. Chains bind her wrists, but her expression remains unreadable.
"Why did you help me?" you ask, voice low. Wren tilts her head, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
"Would you rather I let you die?" she muses. "Or are you afraid you owe me now?"
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