Chapter Ninety

The journey to the cells felt agonizingly slow, each step heavy with the dread of what he might find. The lower levels of the pack house were cold and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and the faint, metallic tang of blood. These cells were meant for the worst of the worst—traitors, rogues, those who had committed unforgivable acts. To think that Angela was down here, alone and scared, made Louis’s heart clench with anguish.

When he finally reached the cells, the guards standing watch tensed at his approach, their hands instinctively moving toward their weapons. But Louis barely noticed them. His focus...