Kai POV
The air in the cells beneath the packhouse is damp and heavy, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the musty chill of stone, the kind that seeps into your bones and lingers. The captured rogue — Kael, she spat out under duress — is a feisty thing, chained to a steel chair bolted to the floor, her scarred muzzle now human but no less defiant. Her amber eyes dart like a cornered animal’s, glinting with a mix of fear and fury, her matted chestnut hair clinging to her sweat-streaked face. She snarls at every warrior who passes, her voice a low growl despite the silver cuffs biting into her wrists, their faint shimmer promising pain. Dax and I take turns questioning her, our boots echoing on the cold concrete, but she holds out longer than any rogue should—silver in her veins, may
