Author’s point of view

The corridors of the packhouse, once full of hushed tones and hidden friendships, had turned cold and the smell of smoky wood from the flames remained in the walls, and blood that had dried in the cracks in the stone floors, so the remnants of the battle lingered.

In an attempt to look serene, Selene was standing in the middle of the fight room with hands clasped together and an upright posture. Yet, it was clear from her eyes that she had run out of options. Marcus sat at the head of the great oak table, his gaze upon her with an inscrutable face. His inner...