Scarlett’s POV

The packhouse feels quieter than usual as I walk through the dimly lit corridors, my steps echoing softly against the polished stone floors. I clutch my bag tighter, feeling a twinge of unease. Alaric had just left, promising he would wait for me for dinner, but I have no appetite. Every nerve in my body is jittery, the events of the day replaying like a relentless loop in my mind. My leg still aches slightly from the competition earlier, and the faint sting of Mila’s ...