Zoe POV

Time moves differently inside a cell.

I'm curled in the corner with my knees pulled to my chest, watching the light on the stone floor shift from white to pale gold. I don't know what hour it is. I don't know how long we've been here. The only thing I'm tracking is Iris—the feel of her in the back of my mind, the way her presence ebbs and strengthens in small, uneven pulses, like a fire working to catch.

She doesn't answer with words. Just a quiet pulse of ...