The echo of iron doors slammed through the prison like thunder. I opened my eyes slowly, my head pounding, limbs sore. Just as I tried to sit upright, I heard heavy boots scraping the stone floor, then a thud—a body being thrown into the cell.
We all turned, even the vampire and the witch, whose presence I had begun to tolerate. The prisoner groaned, coughing up blood as his body slumped against the far wall. A tiny ray of sunlight pierced through a high slit in the stone, hitting his shoulder.
That’s when I saw it.
Luca’s sigil.
Branded in dark ink, half burned into flesh.
A soldier.
Without thinking, I scrambled across the filthy stone floor, ignoring the ache in my muscles, the dried blood crusting my lip. I knelt beside him and lifted his head gently. His skin was clammy, and his
