Bronwyn darted across the room, her fist closing over Devin's wrist before he could extract his hand and run.<br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Fuck!</span>" Devin shouted, trying to jerk his hand from Bronwyn's grasp.<br/>"You know what the Arabians used to do to thieves, boy?" Bronwyn growled.<br/>"Let me go, damn it!" Devin yelled, struggling hard and not gaining an inch.<br/>"Keep a civil tongue in your mouth or you'll lose that too."<br/>"Bronwyn, his fingers are turning blue." Tara said from the doorway.<br/>"He won' need his fingers if he doesn' have his hand." Bronwyn said over her shoulder.<br/>"Let me go, please?" Devin said, tears starting to well up in his eyes.<br/>Bronwyn let him go. "All ya had to do was ask. Dona try to run away though, you won' get far."<br/>Devin shook his hand, trying to get the blood flow back into his fingers.<br/>"Dona be a drama queen, boy." Bronwyn said, rolling her eyes.<br/>"You nearly broke my wrist!" he snarled at her.<br/>"Bones bend before they break. I merely bent them." Bronwyn waved her hand dismissively. "You're still young, you'll heal fast. D'you know anything about a rendezvous point?"