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"No." Pitch wrapped his free hand into your hair and yanked your head backwards ready to draw the dagger across your bruised throat. One your hands instinctively flew to his hold on you but while he smirked and briefly admired the hickeys he'd adorned you with, your other hand was reaching for a shard of the shattered glass. You soon clasped hold of a large piece, hiding a wince as it cut into your palm and as Pitch met your fiery glare with a cool smirk, you drove your makeshift weapon into his leg. The glass pierced him with ease and the villain let out a howl of pain, dropping the blade as his hands were drawn to his wound. Immediately you