Soraya felt like dying at this moment.

She wasn’t afraid of death.

She hoped that she could die right now.

She had watched her companions die with her own eyes just now, stabbed by knives without being able to fight back. She had also hoped that the knives would pierce her body when it had happened.

Soraya wouldn’t need to endure the humiliation she would face later when Giovanni forced himself on her later either, and she wouldn’t need to endure the torment of the regret she felt inside.