POV: Sebastian Sterling

The cell was cold. Always cold.

Three years in this concrete box had taught me to stop expecting warmth. Stop expecting rescue. Stop expecting anything except the next round of tests and the guards who brought meals that barely qualified as food.

I pressed my palm against the wall, feeling the hum of magical wards that kept my wolf suppressed. They'd learned early that I was a fighter. Learned it when I'd nearly killed two guards during my first escape attempt.

Now ...