MasukMattias dropped the flap behind us, shutting out the whispers and hostile stares from the camp. Inside, a single lantern burned low.I stood there, swaying slightly, feeling stupid and out of place, not sure if my legs would hold me much longer. Everything hurt; my feet, my chest, the space behind my eyes where exhaustion had caused me to have a headache.I was starting to get use to tents, instead of the huge, comfortable rooms back at the Silverfangs pack. I had no idea how people could live like this.Mattias moved to the bedroll and sat down heavily, his face twisting with pain. His shirt was gone, probably lost somewhere in the chaos. The burns across his shoulder and side of his face looked worse in the dim light, the skin looking red, angry and raw."You're bleeding again," I said, my voice flat.He glanced down at the bandage wrapped around his ribs, already dark with fresh blood. "I'll live."He started unwrapping the cloth with one hand, his movements stiff and frustrated. I
Samantha heard him before she saw him.Footsteps—measured, unhurried—echoed through the marble-floored entry hall. The sound bounced off the tall ceilings, growing louder, closer, until it filled the cavernous space like a countdown.She stood just inside the door, surrounded by bodyguards who suddenly looked like statues. None of them moved. Not one of them breathed too loudly.Jason appeared at the end of the corridor.No jacket. Sleeves rolled. Tie gone.His expression was unreadable.There was blood on her face, she remembered that too late. A bruise near her eye. A thin slice across her temple. Her clothes were wrinkled, stained, torn in one place where the seatbelt had dug into her body. She must have looked like someone who had crawled out of a wreck.She had.He stopped a few feet from her, gaze sweeping over every inch of her—the bruise, the dried blood, the tremble in her hands.Not a word.Just that stare.The silence stretched so thick she could feel it pressing against he
Morning light crept in through the torn seams of the tent, a thin, dusty gold that made everything look softer than it was. For the first time since being dragged here, I woke up unbound. My wrists still burned from the ropes, raw and tender, but at least now I could move. Mattias was gone. The blankets where he'd sat were flattened, still faintly warm, though his iron-smoke still lingered. I heard muffled voices coming from outside, the scrape of metal, and boots on dirt. A man I didn't recognise appeared at the tent flap, his hair was cropped short, and he had a scr across his chin. He wasn't holding a weapon, but his hand never strayed far from the knife at his belt. "You're allowed outside," he said. "Under supervision." "Oh, how generous. Do I get a leash too, or just the bodyguard?" He didn't answer, just motioned toward the opening. I sighed and pushed to my feet, tugging at my torn dress to make it sit right. Everything looked smaller and sadder now that the sun was u
The next morning came without sunlight. The torches never went out down here, but something in the air told me that time had passed. The camp had woken up. Boots scraped on stone, tools clanked against crates, and voices murmured through the tunnels. Life went on, even after everything that had burned above. I sat up on the bedroll, confused for a second. Lena was still asleep beside me, her arm curled over her face, hair a mess of knots and ash. I'd barely slept, my dreams too full of white light and the screams that came with it. By the time I stepped outside, most of the camp was already moving. Fires burned low, heating pots of something thick and practically inedible. I recognised Davies across the cavern, handing out rations with the same dark efficiency he seemed to do everything with. He didn't look at me, but the people he served did with short, sharp glances that didn't hide the disgust in them. Mattias wasn't in sight. Good. I needed to do something before I lost my
She pulled away first, her eyes clouded, mouth trembling with things she didn’t say. This wasn't the plan. It was never supposed to get this far, both of them being so uncontrollably angry at everything. He was supposed to be in control. He had always, always been in control, but the past few weeks had been hell, and now everything was going off track faster than he could hold it together. Jason watched her retreat to the window, to the telescope, away from him, and he felt a strange ache and emptiness, making him want to reach out and pull her back to him. He spotted the shards of broken glass she’d never cleaned up, from the perfume bottle she’d thrown at the wall hours ago. He saw the glitter of it under the lamplight, the faint smell of jasmine still clinging to the air. He realised that he had done that to her. He had pushed her that far. Samantha leaned toward the telescope again, adjusting the lens with slow, deliberate movements. "You don’t have to stand there if you do
Jason's POVHe regretted letting her out of his sight. This is why happened when you give your prisoners freedom, they just go and find ways to cause themselves more harm.How the hell had she managed to get into an accident on her first day? Jason mused bitterly, feeling just as annoyed as he was worried.He tried to take his mind off tata and focus on the matter at hand. His guards would take care of her, but first... Tiffany.Under the harsh fluorescent light, Tiffany Langley looked nothing like the elegant, untouchable woman America watched on TV every night. He knew her very well, her persona, her popularity of TVs most beloved host, and that's why he picked her for the interview with his fiancee', because he thought she could be trusted.Her hair, normally sleek and camera-perfect, had wilted from the heat of the interrogation room. The red lipstick remained, bleeding slightly at the corner of her mouth, but everything else about her screamed of someone who’d been sitting too







