“I hate this fucking ring,” James muttered, startling Sarah from her reverie. He wasn’t far away—their forelegs were tied together, so she didn’t really have a choice about hearing him. “It took me long enough to make up my mind, but I’m positive about it now. Everything we try to help tries to murder us. Every time I try to do something nice, it’s like bending over and spreading my legs. It all fucks me.”