Luna's instincts screamed the same warning Corvin had just voiced aloud, and she raised a hand before anyone could move further, holding the group at the treeline's edge while she studied the scene with the same careful patience six days of training had taught her to value over impulsive action.
"Three guards, one prisoner, no visible perimeter watch," she said quietly. "That's not careless. That's staged."
"Your father might not know it's staged," Draven said, low and urgent. "If Marrow's using him as bait, he might be sitting there with no idea he's the trigger for whatever's actually waiting."
"Or he might know precisely," Sylas said, equally quiet, "and be sitting there unable to warn us regardless."
Luna studied her father's posture from this distance — the stiff, anxious way he h
