Killian's POV:
I didn’t answer. Instead, I stepped aside, signaling to the guards to begin. One of them grabbed the thin, sharp knife, running it along the rope binding the lanky rogue’s wrists.
The sound of the rope snapping echoed in the dungeon. The rogue flinched as the guard’s fingers gripped his arms roughly, yanking him to his feet.
I leaned against the stone wall again, arms crossed, watching as the guards worked. The lanky rogue, now standing, was trembling. His breath came in shallow gasps, but still, he didn’t speak.
The guard holding the knife stepped closer, the blade flashing in the dim light. He ran it slowly across the rogue’s arm, just grazing the skin, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Talk,” I said, sharply. "Tell me who’s inside the Packhouse." Now."
The lanky rogue
