ALARIC POV
The dungeon door slammed open hard enough to rattle the hinges.
I didn’t slow down.
The warrior barely had time to stumble ahead of me before I shoved past him and started down the stairs two at a time. Damp air hit my lungs, thick with mold and old iron.
Something felt wrong. I couldn't explain it, but instead of the relief of having her just a few feet away there was a sick feeling in my stomach that would only increase, a premonition that defied logic and drowned out the lingering adrenaline of the kill, turning every step I took down those damp stairs into a desperate race against a clock I couldn't see but could feel ticking in my very bones.
Cells lined the corridor.
Some empty.
Some not.
Hands reached out from the shadows and voices I didn’t recognize pleaded
