Mira's POV.

The rebel stronghold wasn't the prison I'd imagined. It was a fortress. It was organized and deliberately filled with young wolves. They moved with purpose rather than desperation.

And at the center of it all stood my daughter.

Lyra commanded the hall like she'd been born to lead. Her voice carried across the stone chamber. She was clear and unwavering as she addressed the assembled rogues.

I couldn't breathe watching her. Sixteen years old, but she was every inch a warrior. She ...