She wasn't watching their mouths so she wasn't getting the conversation at all, all she was getting was that these men wanted to hurt her, fully intended to hurt her. She was still struggling, kicking and writhing against Herrick's hand, but then he hit her. The back of his hand collided with her cheekbone hard enough that she saw stars and she gasped, head rocking back violently to bare that skinny neck, and it took the wind out of her fight. She practically fell back against Herrick's grip, only held up by her hair, and she was shaking with fear and anger when she forced her eyes open again. The side of her face stung with pain and the corner of her lip was split, a trickle of blood there from chapped, dry lips.
She glared up at him, her green eyes full of fire fueled by fear. She was a defiant little thing with a lot of fight in her, after all, and she had venom in that gaze. And no bracelet on her bone-thin little wrists.