ADRIAN
I went to the dungeon myself.
I didn’t send guards. I didn’t ask Lucas. I needed to see it with my own eyes. I needed to know exactly what had been done.
The stone steps were cold beneath my boots as I descended. The air changed the deeper I went. Damp. Metallic. Old. The kind of place that remembered pain.
Fern stirred inside me, restless and angry.
Blood, he growled.
I felt it too.
The guards straightened when they saw me.
“Leave us,” I said.
They hesitated.
“That’s an order.”
They bowed their heads and stepped away.
Beta Sinclair lay on the narrow bed, barely conscious. His body was a mess. Bruises darkened his skin. Deep gashes crossed his torso. Some wounds were fresh. Others were trying—and failing—to heal.
His wolf had been damaged.
That was the worst part.
A w
