The morning light was weak, barely piercing through the thick canopy. For Elena, it offered no comfort, only a cruel reminder that time hadn’t stopped, even though her world felt trapped in an endless night of fear.
Michael walked beside her, his hand clutching his sword though his grip was shaky. His body bore the marks of exhaustion: his shoulders sagged, his lips pale, his steps heavier with every mile. Yet he pressed forward, never once loosening his protective hold on her.
Elena wanted to tell him to rest. But she didn’t dare. Damian’s presence was everywhere, woven into the trees, into the wind, into the beat of her own pulse.
They weren’t walking through a forest.
They were walking through Damian’s maze.
And he made sure they knew it.
The first trap revealed itself with the sc
