Amy’s POV
The suited man kept that fake, sugary smile plastered on his face as he led us through the dim hallway behind the kitchen. Kael walked half a step ahead of me, tense but controlled, his hand brushing against my lower back in a light, protective touch. The corridor smelled of spices and heat, but underneath it was something else, something sour that made my stomach twist. The kitchen staff didn’t look at us. They kept their eyes down, moving quietly, like they had been warned not to interfere.
“Where exactly are we going?” Kael asked, voice steady.
The man didn’t bother to look back. “The chef wishes to speak with you both. He insists it will only take a moment.”
His tone was polite, but it carried a layer of command that didn’t match his smile. Two other men trailed behind us
