The lackey tossed her onto a hard couch in the rear of the house opposite a closed patio door.
The lackey bit into her other arm, and she cried.
"Keep her drained and weak," he ordered the lackey.
To a lackey no man can be great, for a lackey has his own conception of greatness.
The lackey picked her up and carted her to the garage, which served as a makeshift barracks filled with cots and sleeping men.
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