(Kaelen)
The drainage channel smells like rot and old water and I'm through it in under two minutes, which means Dorian hasn't found it, which means he still thinks I'm coming through the front.
I'm not coming through the front.
I come up through the south side into what used to be the old holding's storage yard — low building, broken equipment, a rusted gate that hasn't been used in years. The moon is doing something useful tonight, enough light to move by without shifting, and I stay low and read the space before I move into it.
Quiet. Too quiet.
My wolf lifts her head.
I pause. Press my back against the stone wall and breathe and listen. Somewhere ahead — the main building, the one Dorian used for formal gatherings when this territory was still Blackwood's — there's a light. Singl
