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Heart pounding, Cassian scrambled backwards on hands and feet, the cold brick wall pressing into his back as he sought to put distance between himself and the advancing assailant. "What do you want from me?" His voice trembled with a mixture of fear and confusion, his wide eyes darting between each menacing figure.

The leader of the trio, a tall man with dark hair that contrasted sharply against Cassian\'s shorter stature of just five feet, squatted down near him on the ground. His eyes fixated on the necklace hanging around Cassian\'s neck, glinting with a mix of covetousness and menace.

"That," the leader demanded while pointing his knife at the necklace on his neck, his voice carrying a tone that brooked no refusal. "I want it."

Cassian\'s heart sank as he instinctively clutched the necklace in his trembling hands. It was a gift from his master, bestowed only moments ago with strict instructions to safeguard it. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him, amplified by the leader\'s unwavering gaze fixed upon the precious heirloom.

"Not this," Cassian managed to utter, his voice quivering with a mix of fear and determination. "I can give you anything else, but this... I cannot part with."

The leader\'s smirk widened, revealing a hint of amusement mixed with malice. "You want to struggle?" he taunted, his voice low and dangerous.

Without waiting for a response, the leader\'s hand moved swiftly to his side, drawing a long, wickedly curved knife from its sheath. The glint of the blade caught the dim light, adding a chilling edge to the already tense atmosphere.

Fear surged through Cassian\'s veins as he realized the gravity of his situation. With every second that passed, the threat loomed larger, pressing him to make a split-second decision. Instinct kicked in, overriding his thoughts as he scrambled to his feet in a desperate bid to escape.

Ignoring the leader\'s mocking tone and the impending danger, Cassian turned and ran. His legs pumped furiously, fueled by adrenaline and the primal urge to survive.

The men watched with grim satisfaction as Cassian sprinted away from them, their laughter echoing in the quiet street. Their subordinates smirked knowingly, shaking their heads at the predictable outcome. The leader, a towering figure with dark hair, gripped his knife tightly, eyes fixed on Cassian\'s fleeing form. With a predatory smile, he muttered under his breath, "I\'ll take that as a yes..."

In a swift and practiced motion, he hurled the knife towards Cassian. The blade cut through the air with deadly precision, covering the distance in an instant. It struck Cassian\'s leg just as he reached a safe distance, the force spinning him around and sending him crashing to the ground.

Confusion swept over him as he tried to stand, only to find that one of his legs refused to bear weight, as if the ground beneath it had vanished.

Stunned and disoriented, Cassian glanced back, desperate to understand what had happened. To his horror, he saw his leg lying several meters away, severed cleanly from his body. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the ground crimson, same colour as his hair. The pain hit him like a thunderbolt, but shock kept him from fully comprehending the magnitude of his injury.

"Why is my leg there?" Cassian murmured, his voice trembling with disbelief and agony. He struggled to process the surreal scene before him, his mind racing with fear and confusion. The reality of his situation sank in slowly, accompanied by waves of excruciating pain.

Cassian\'s cry echoed through the alley, a guttural sound of agony as the full force of the pain surged through his mind. The men responsible for his brutal injury exchanged satisfied glances, their smiles betraying a twisted pleasure in his suffering. The leader stepped closer to the now legless Cassian, his voice cold and deliberate.

"Then I\'ll make sure to make you struggle," he declared, a cruel satisfaction evident in his tone as he advanced towards the fallen Cassian.

Struggling against the agony and the dread of what awaited him, Cassian fought to crawl away, his palms scraping against the rough ground, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. His voice cracked with desperation as he cried out for help, each plea growing more desperate as he realized the futility of his calls.

"Help! Somebody, please help me! Stay away!" His voice cracked, a mixture of fear and pain, echoing into the night.

But the men remained unmoved by his cries, their faces etched with grim satisfaction. One of them, a younger accomplice with a glint of sadism in his eyes, suggested callously, "Shouldn\'t we just finish him off before anyone hears him?"

The leader chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on Cassian\'s writhing form. He withdrew his knife from the ground with a deliberate slowness, its blade gleaming in the dim light. He licked the blood from its edge with a disturbing casualness, savoring the moment.

"Don\'t be in such a rush," the leader retorted, his voice cold and mocking. "We\'ve got time to enjoy this. He\'s already begging for mercy, can\'t you see?"

Cassian, gripped by a cocktail of agony and terror, continued to drag himself backward, away from the advancing men. His eyes darted around desperately, searching for any sign of salvation in the darkness. Each movement sent fresh waves of pain through his shattered body, but the fear of what awaited him if caught spurred him on.