They carried Dorian into an empty room, laying him carefully on an old, ornate couch that groaned under his weight. The room smelled faintly of mildew, and the faded wallpaper hinted at a time long gone. Ryder straightened, glancing between Dorian and Kyra.
“Stay here with him,” Ryder said firmly, meeting Kyra’s worried gaze. “I need to find Gregory and make sure everything’s under control.”
Kyra stepped closer, her expression a mix of concern and unease. “Be careful, Ryder,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ryder gave her a reassuring nod, but before he could respond, Dorian chimed in with a smirk, his voice dry but amused. “Careful? He’s immortal now, Kyra. Just like you. I’d say he’s got a pretty good shot at surviving whatever’s out there.”
Ryder rolled his eyes but
