Selina’s POV
The iron door stayed silent as Finn cracked it open, exhaling a long, cold breath of grease, stale tallow, and wet hair. The under-city of Oakhaven remained a miserable sprawl, and stepping out from the ancient granite of the Smuggling Tunnels into the cellar of the abandoned tannery felt like sliding from a tomb into a slaughterhouse.
"Clear," Finn murmured, his hand dropping from the heavy bolt. He stepped through the gap first, his massive shoulders hunched low as he swept the gloom with his amber gaze. The light of the restored Anchor had healed his broken bones, but the deep, spiritual exhaustion of the red-fever remained etched into the hollows of his cheeks. He moved with a deliberate, stiff grit.
Elias followed, guiding Isolde over a pile of rotted leather hides. Th
