Ella stood quietly in the doorway, her eyes sweeping over the room Dorian had led her to. It wasn’t grand or extravagant; its simplicity was striking. The walls were bare, painted in muted gray, and the single bed in the corner was dressed in plain white sheets. A modest wooden chair and a small table completed the sparse furnishings.

She sighed, stepping inside and running her fingers over the edge of the table. It wasn’t much, but it was clean, far better than the damp, dark cell she'd been confined to at the hideout.

Dorian, who stood just outside the door, cleared his throat. “You’ll be staying here for now....