Esme’s POV
The lower cells smelled like bleach and rust.
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed and throwing sickly white light over concrete walls that had seen too much blood. Every step I took echoed too loud, like the whole underground level was listening.
Landon had gotten me past three checkpoints with nothing more than a glare at the guards.
Guards stepped aside like they still remembered who he used to be. Now we stood at the final gate, the one that led to the maximum-security wing, and my stomach was in knots.
I rushed forward the second the bars slid open.
Landon’s hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me back so hard I stumbled.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Not yet. He’ll hurt you.”
I tried to pull free. “It’s my fault. That venom was supposed to be in me.
