"What happened?" Her voice cracked halfway through. She didn't look up, just ran her thumb over the edge of the damaged wing.
Elias stepped forward.
"We'd like to know too," he said, the words flat. His gaze stayed locked on the men in front of them.
The guards had stopped just inside the doorway. All four were breathing—but wrong. The movement of their shoulders didn't match the rhythm of their chests. Their uniforms were soaked through with blood, dark patches crawling up the sleeves and down the front. One of them looked like he'd taken a hit to the head—hard—but kept walking anyway.
Their eyes…
Elias stared.
Red streamed from the edges—not smeared blood, but fluid, fresh and glossy. It ran in thin lines from the corners like their tear ducts had ruptured. None of them blinked.
Faye leaned closer, her tone dropping to a whisper.
"That's not right."
