The corridor seemed to pulse with tension, each second stretching until it felt like minutes. The air was thick with the scent of damp metal and burning steam, but beneath it was something else—something sharp and coppery. Blood.
Bella’s back pressed against the cold wall, her breath shallow. Her eyes never left the shadowy figure, but she could see Adrain’s stance shift—shoulders square, weight balanced, every muscle primed for movement.
The figure stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his boots making faint splashes in the water pooling along the floor. As he moved into a sliver of dim light, Bella caught a glimpse of his face—or rather, the jagged scar running from his temple to the corner of his mouth. His eyes were a pale, almost icy grey, and they were locked on her like a predator
