He dragged me to two tall black doors. I caught my breath. This must be the entrance to the infamous Den. It was unmarked, unguarded, and clearly avoided. But the doors opened outward without a sound the moment Renwell appeared before them.
“No, no!” I sobbed, digging my heels into the broken cobblestones.
“Shut up, idiot girl,” Renwell hissed as he pulled me forward hard enough for me to stumble. “Or lose your tongue.”
I whimpered again, barely keeping myself upright as he hauled me through the gate. I gasped—in real fear this time—when I came face to face with a Shadow-Wolf on the other side.
He was swathed in black from head to toe, not a bit of skin to be seen. A few sunstone knives glittered in his belt. Worst of all was his dark metal mask, shaped like a snarling wolf. He looked like a drawing I’d seen in an old book on the demons from the Abyss. Waiting to snatch souls into the wandering hell.
Never interfere with my Wolves.That had been one of Renwell’s rules. Seeing one, there was little chance of that.
Renwell hurried me past one then two then a dozen more Shadow-Wolves. They lined the wide, barren yard where training dummies and racks of weapons were set up. A few more trailed in and out of the dark maw of a cave.
My heart pounded louder than the waterfall that cascaded nearby. Gods, the Den was truly cutintothe cliff most of the city resided on.
Renwell didn’t hesitate as he towed me into the cave. The sound of the waterfall faded as we rushed through a maze of rocky tunnels that dripped with moisture and smelled of mildew. Several tunnels looked wide enough for a wagon while others Renwell would have to turn sideways to slip through.
What all did he do down here? Did my father or brother ever see it? I couldn’t imagine either man in this sun-forsaken hole.
We came to another gate that a large, greasy man with a fistful of keys opened from the inside. He leered at me as Renwell dragged me through. Rusty doors lined the torch-lit tunnel, and the thunder of the waterfall came loudest from the other end. We must be right behind it.
Renwell flung me into the first room on the left and slammed the door behind us. I caught myself against a heavy wooden chair and immediately recoiled. It was sticky and smelled of blood. Crusted shackles lay like coiled snakes at its feet. A few torches on the walls illuminated the deep crimson stains and scorch marks that marred the wood.
This place, these smells.
Rising panic blurred my vision as I swung around wildly, noting the many weapons strewn about the room. Whips, knives, tools for cutting and sawing.
My stomach heaved.
I bolted for the door, but Renwell snatched my wrist and swung me against one of the walls, pinning me with his entire body.
“Calm yourself, Kiera. Breathe,” he growled.
“Not him,” I gasped, a scream clawing from my throat. “You swore, Renwell. Not him.”
“Look at me.”
I did, black smudges still blotting my vision. The wavering torchlight only deepened the hardness of Renwell’s eyes.
“Korvin is not here,” he rasped. “I will be the one to deal with you.”
Not here, not here, not here.The words ricocheted around my skull until my mind finally calmed enough to grasp them.
A few moments more, and I’d wrestled the hideous memories back into the darkest cavern of my memory where they waited like bats to swarm my sanity.
My shallow breaths deepened. “Let go of me.”
Renwell’s jaw clenched, but he stepped away, releasing my aching wrist.
“Where is the prisoner?” I asked hoarsely.
“You’ll meet him shortly. Do you remember everything we talked about? What you need to do?”
“Yes.” Even though my mind was utterly blank at the moment.
“Good. Now... to make your capture look convincing.”
I swallowed against my dry throat. He had said as much earlier, back in the warmth and safety of my room. But here? Those words felt much more ominous.
