Aveline
Darkness in the subterranean vaults was not absolute; it was a thick, suffocating soup of charcoal dust and the rhythmic, terrifying pulse of crimson light emanating from the Source. My lungs burned with the intake of grit, each breath a reminder of the clubhouse collapsing miles—or perhaps only inches—above our heads.
Matteo lay a few feet away, a silhouette of bruised muscle and raw determination. He was already trying to stand, his fingers clawing into the cracked stone floor, his wolf-healed side weeping a slow, dark trail of blood. But my attention was pulled toward the shadows behind us.
The fall hadn't just taken us.
"Kai?" I croaked, my voice sounding like it had been dragged over broken glass.
A groan answered me from beneath a pile of shattered marble. I scrambled to
