Thoren
Brent didn’t look like a man who had just been dragged out of the woods.
That was the first thing I noticed when I stepped into the room.
He should have been worse off. He had been injected with wolfsbane, restrained, and hauled back under conditions that would have broken most men long before they reached this point. Instead, he sat in the chair like the situation was inconvenient, not catastrophic, his posture loose enough to suggest comfort even with the restraints locking his wrists in place.
That alone told me everything I needed to know.
He wasn’t going to make this easy.
Good.
I closed the door behind me and stepped further into the room, letting the silence settle long enough to remind him exactly where he was and who controlled it.
Then I stopped in front of him.
“
