They'd put her in the same cell that had once held rogue prisoners during my own first few weeks in this pack, back when I was still nothing more to Ashgrave than a stranger who'd cleared a gully alone.
I hadn't expected the strange, cold symmetry of it, walking down toward that same stretch of corridor beside Rhys, both of us still carrying the exhaustion of a battle we'd barely finished surviving.
Marisol looked different than the last time I'd seen her, composed and dangerous in a council hall she'd controlled for three years. Bruised now, her wrists bound, dirt and dried blood streaked across a face that had always carried itself with careful, deliberate control.
But her eyes, when they found mine through the cell bars, held exactly the same sharp, assessing quality I remembered f
