Lucian kept walking.
The next cell held a woman, her hair matted and dirty, her clothes torn. She pressed herself against the back wall as he approached, her eyes wide with terror. Whatever she'd done to end up here, she remembered what the Blackwood brothers were capable of.
More cells. More prisoners.
Some in wolf form, chained and muzzled. Some in human form, shackled to the walls. Some snarled and snapped as he passed. Some begged. Some just watched with dead eyes, hope long since abandoned.
The dungeon was a symphony of suffering...growls and whimpers, chains rattling, the drip of water on stone, the smell of unwashed bodies and fear and blood.
This was where they put the ones who broke pack law. The ones who killed without cause, who betrayed their own, who committed crimes so heinous that death would be mercy.
This was where they'd put her.
