The storm didn’t stop.
Rain hammered the ruins through the collapsed roof, dripping down walls and pooling into the cracked stone floor. The smell of blood clung heavy, copper and iron layered over rot and mildew.
Adrian sat with his back to the wall, blade across his knees, his knuckles white where he gripped the hilt. His chest still rose and fell too fast, but his eyes never left Kael. Not once.
Nora stood guard at the entrance, her knife spinning between her fingers, a habit as calm as breathing. She looked outward, but I knew she was watching us too.
And Kael—Kael sat where he had fallen, head tipped back against the stone, his shirt clinging to blood and rain. His wrists were raw from the rope, but his expression wasn’t weak. It was sharp, even amused, though exhaustion dragged a
