Silverpine — Lord Silas CorvainThe cell was empty.Corvain stood in the doorway with his coat still buttoned against the dungeon chill and looked at the abandoned ropes on the floor, the cot dragged beneath the window, the gap in the bars with its edges scraped bright and smeared brown where she’d bled forcing herself through.Behind him, the guards had gone the color of old tallow. Somewhere up the spiral stairs, he could hear Alpha Dayn shouting at someone, the words lost, the fury clear.Corvain crouched. He picked up a frayed loop of rope, turned it in his gloved fingers, examined the fibers where she’d sawed through it against raw stone. Twenty minutes of work, he judged. Perhaps thirty. With bound hands, in the cold, after a beating and a rejection and an auction.He smiled.“Sir,” the auction house steward said nervously, “the pack extends its deepest apologies. Naturally your payment will be returned in full&
Last Updated : 2026-07-21 Read more