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Caius ducked low, an arrow grazing his shoulder as he shoved Lydia behind a crumbling wall. His rogues flanked him, snarling, their claws out. Mary crouched beside Lydia, knife trembling in her hand, her eyes wide with panic. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of burning wood, the village a mess.

“Stay down,” Caius growled at Lydia, his voice rough. He glanced at her, his scarred face softening for a split second. She nodded, clinging to Mary, her little body shaking.

He hated seeing her like this, his daughter, scared and alone because of him.

Another arrow whizzed past, embedding in the wall. Caius cursed, peering...