|| Alaric's POV ||

The dungeon air clung to my skin, rosemary and something bitter underneath. Wolfsbane, maybe. The pale lights flickered as we descended, throwing jagged shadows against the stone walls.

Marcus walked beside me, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

"She won't talk easily," he muttered.

I didn't answer.

Coco sat slumped in the corner of her cell, her once-vibrant curls now tangled and dull. Her wrists were raw from the iron cuffs, her ...