Moana’s POV

My feet drag against the cold stone floor as we are herded down a narrow corridor, the dim torchlight flickering off the walls and casting monstrous shadows.

The air is heavy with dampness and something sour, like rotting fruit. I keep my eyes on the back of the woman in front of me, trying not to stumble as the guard behind me pushes me forward with a grunt.

My wrists ache from the rough rope binding them, and every breath feels too loud in the silence, broken only by the ...