“Make way!” The guard yelled.

To Desiree, the world had become filled with distorted sounds and the sharp smell of blood. Lots of it.

Roman’s body was carried through the corridors in a blur of howling voices, hurried footsteps, and flickering torchlight. Desiree ran beside him, her palm bleeding from where she pressed too hard against his wound, refusing to loosen her grip even as warm red soaked through her fingers and dripped down her wrists.

“Don’t you stop,” she begged, ...