"Asher, you stay here. Watch Shay and Sandro. We'll check inside."
Ares didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. Authority rolled off him like cold steel, final and absolute.
Asher's jaw tightened. A protest rose to his lips — then died when he glanced at Shay, who was clinging to Sandro's arm, pale and shaken. With a frustrated exhale, he nodded once. Shay was scared of the dark.
Scarlet didn't volunteer either. The ruins loomed like the open mouth of something ancient and hungry, their jagged silhouette cutting into the sky. A damp, mineral smell seeped from the entrance, carrying the stale breath of centuries. She wrapped her arms around herself.
"Do you think it could collapse?" she asked, her voice smaller than usual.
Logan stepped forward, eyes sweeping the fractured stonework, the load-bearing columns, the cracked lintel above the entry. He tilted his head slightly, calculating angles and stress lines the way other people read street signs.
