Elena’s POV

The basement walls were closing in. Damp air pressed against my lungs, carrying the stench of mold and rusty pipes, but all I could smell was the iron tang of blood on the ledger beside me. Beta’s blood. My hand throbbed under its bandage, but I couldn’t stop staring at those pages. Names. Payments. My mother’s initials like a knife twist. Forty-eight hours left before the Council swallowed me whole.

It named names—Elder Hayes, his cronies, even Margaret—and it was my ...