My pulse spiked. I rounded the final corner and—
There she was.
Ava.
She was slumped against the wall, her wrists bound, her clothes torn and dirty. Blood streaked her skin—small cuts, bruises, a testament to whatever hell she had been through.
But she was breathing.
"Ava," I breathed, my voice rough, barely above a whisper.
Her head lifted slightly, and for a second—just a second—those defiant eyes found mine. Even in the dim torchlight, even in this nightmare, I saw it.
Fire.
She was hurt. She was weak. But she wasn’t broken.
And that was all I needed.
Rage surged through me, my wolf rising to the surface as I stormed forward, dropping to my knees beside her. My hands moved to her bindings, snapping the rope apart with ease.
"Ava," I said again, cupping her face gently. "Look
