Seraphina didn't lower the bloody karambit. She didn't wipe the sweat from her eyes or the blood from her collarbone. She stood rooted to the concrete, her chest heaving, her gaze locked on the dark silhouette illuminated by the harsh white spotlight above.

The silhouette didn't move. It simply st

The holding cell smelled of rust, stale copper, and the undeniable stench of subterranean dampness. Seraphina Vance was thrown onto the cold concrete floor with a bone-jarring thud. Her shoulders screamed in protest, the muscles torn and bruised from her brutal fight in the arena, but she refused to

"Move."

The command was a low, dangerous growl, barely audible over the harsh scrape of Seraphina’s boots against the concrete. Kaelen had holstered his weapon, but his face was a mask of furious denial. He grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out of the holding cell and down a long, dimly lit corr