Ted’s pov
The air in the lower subterranean corridor was thick with the stench of rot, mold, and damp earth.
I walked the slick stone passage slowly, my iron-soled boots making no sound against the wet floorboards. I kept one hand resting on the hilt of my short hunting knife, my dark eyes sweeping every shadowed alcove.
The silver wolf fang necklace Jill had given me rested heavy against my bare chest, hidden beneath my leather vest. The cool bone pressed over my heart, a constant, silent reminder of her touch in the cold dark of the enemy camp.
I was on outer guard duty for Fernando’s high-security holding cells.
The rogue encampment was buzzing with quiet, nervous energy. Fernando was dying from Shaun's silver wound, his dark magic failing, and his raid leaders were growing restles
