POV: Ashina
The interrogation room in the manor's basement smelled like blood, silver, and desperation.
Ashina stood behind the two-way mirror, watching as Kendrick and Ryker questioned Marcus. The former border patrol member sat chained to a metal chair, silver burning angry welts into his wrists and ankles. He'd been stripped of his shirt, revealing a tapestry of scars that spoke of a hard life and harder choices.
But it was the symbols carved into his chest that made Ashina's blood run cold.
"Mira needs to see this," she said to Zara, who stood beside her, still pale from her own attack but insistent on being present. "Those marks, they're not random scars."
Zara pulled out her phone, texting rapidly. Through the glass, Kendrick was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, radiating lethal patience. Ryker sat across from Marcus, his usually warm features set in stone.
