Raya Banks

“Saints,” I sighed, releasing my iron grip on the steel cell bars and shuffling back to the bunk bed to sit with my back against the cold wall.

I wrapped my hands around myself, feeling a shiver creep up my spine as the heavy clod of footfalls echoed outside the dark cell, so I turned to look at the silvery hallway just as the towering hulk of the cell wolf guard darkened the gateway.

“Food for the prisoner,” He growled gruffly, pushing the silver food tray under the grates so that it clattered to a stop at the foot of the bed and I swallowed the bile that...