LORRY SPRINGSTONE'S / KELLY THOMPSON'S POV

One month later, while sleeping in my damp cell, I'm startled awake by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. The door creaks open and two burly guards enter, their faces grim.

"On your feet, rogue," one of them barks. "Alpha Biansky wants to see you."

My heart races as they roughly haul me up and bind my hands behind my back. Over the past month, I've managed to keep a low profile, using my secret magical healing potion to recover from my injuries ...