KAEL'S POV
The echo of his footsteps hadn't even died before I was moving.
"Ayla—"
"I'm already on to him!" she snapped, vaulting over the low bench to cut the distance.
I tore after her, the throbbing in my arm pulsing in time with each stride. The air in the corridor was cooler, damp, carrying the faint smell of mildew and stone long unlit by torches. The sound of his boots bounced ahead of us, uneven, deliberate — he wasn't just fleeing. He was leading.
The thought hit me like ice water down the spine. "Stop—"
A sharp click answered me.
"Too late."
The floor ahead of Ayla shuddered. A section of the flagstones dropped an inch — just enough to make her stumble. I lunged, grabbing her arm and yanking her backward just as the wall beside us split open.
A cage of black iron shot out on hidden hinges, slamming across the passage like a jaw snapping shut. The clang was deafening.
Ayla caught herself, hair spilling across her face. "Well. That's new."
