Thoren
By the time I reached the holding wing, the heat of the office had burned off, replaced by something colder, sharper, and far more familiar.
Control.
The guards stationed outside the interrogation rooms straightened as I approached, their posture tightening with the kind of alertness that came from knowing something had shifted beneath the surface of routine. One of them stepped forward immediately.
“He’s inside, Your Majesty. He asked for you specifically.”
“Has he spoken to anyone else?”
“No, sir. Refused to say a word until you arrived.”
That alone made me wary.
Men who held information like leverage rarely did so without a purpose.
I nodded once and pushed through the door.
The wolf sat shackled at a metal table, posture relaxed in a way that was almost deliberate. His
