I spat a bit of blood onto the floor. The metallic taste stuck to my tongue, and a dark trace stretched across the smooth stone before fading into the dust. My lip throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat. I'd lost track of time since they'd started "asking questions."
Minutes? Hours? Hard to tell. All I knew was that I still had just enough awareness left to laugh to myself. No real reason. Just that old habit of laughing when everything was falling apart.
I lifted my head a little. The rope cracked behind my back. The door opened. And the silence changed its scent.
She entered without a word.
A woman with dark red skin, broad shoulders, the build of a soldier who'd long forgotten what rest felt like. Beneath her tight uniform, you could still see the contours of her muscles—not decorative ones, no: the kind forged by wars. The guards stiffened. Some even lowered their heads. She didn't need to speak; her presence alone carried more authority than an order.
