~Valerie~
The hallway feels miles long. As I move past the restrooms and deeper into the back of the building, the neon pulse of the Reno Pub fades behind me. The air grows still, losing the warmth of the crowd and replaced by a sharp, biting chill that seeps through the walls.
I reach the heavy iron-bound door at the very end of the corridor, the cellar. It isn't underground, but it feels like a tomb. I push it open, the hinges screaming in a way that sets my teeth on edge.
Inside, it is freezing. The space smells of damp stone, old wood, and the sharp, expensive tang of aging wine stored in the dark. I feel the silver lighter in my pocket, the cold metal digging into my thigh like a brand. My fingers curl around it, my knuckles white.
I am a traitor.
Down the hall, Alpha Ronan is si
