Day 3 – Night Camp, After Lights-Out
The worst yet.
Tents were pitched in a wide circle. Campfires burned low.
Oliver was on watch with Ronald's squad when he heard muffled crying from the adventurer section.
He moved silently.
In the shadows between two wagons, a knight had a full head taller than the girl had her bent over a barrel. Skirt flipped up, panties yanked to her knees, hand clamped over her mouth while he rutted against her ass, not inside, just grinding, grunting, using her like a toy.
Two of his friends stood guard, laughing, taking turns groping her chest whenever he pulled back.
She was shaking, silent tears running down her face.
Oliver's vision went red.
He stepped forward, but a hand caught his shoulder, Ronald.
The knight captain's face was stone.
"I know," Ronald said, voice low. "I've reported it every night. Higher-ups say 'maintain morale.'"
Oliver's voice came out flat. "And if it was Elisha?"
