Kael's povI smelled blood before I heard the fight.Maia walked ahead of me, steady but slow, her hand brushing the wall as if she could read what had passed through here before us.She stopped.Her shoulders went tight, not frightened, just alert.“Someone’s hurt,” she said.“I know,” I answered.That was when I heard it. A low grunt, pain dragged through clenched teeth, followed by the scrape of boots on concrete. I moved without thinking, pulling Maia back with one hand and stepping forward, body already bracing for impact.A man stumbled into view from the side passage. He was tall, broad, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood. His jacket was torn open at the side, soaked through, and the way he held himself told me the wound was bad. Not clean. Not recent.He froze when he saw us.His eyes flicked to Maia, then back to me, and something sharp passed through his expression. Recognition maybe. Or assessment.“Don’t,” he said, voice rough. “I’m not here for you.”
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