As the massive iron portcullis hit the stone floor with a dull, final thud, three figures were shoved out into the blinding glare of the floodlights.
Aden's grip didn't just bend the metal railing this time, it obliterated the velvet padding and steel beneath, reducing it to a fine, grey dust. His chest tightened, a silent storm brewing within him.
They weren't warriors. They weren't even adults. They were the children from the slums—the three boys who had once broken into his sewer dwelling, scrappy and desperate, and somehow ended up as his unwitting accomplices in distracting the Princess during her obsessive hunt.
Now, they were thrust into chaos far beyond anything they had faced before: rusted pipes in trembling hands, crooked swords shaking with every heartbeat, and staring down a Tier 3 beast that loomed like a nightmare come to life, a wolf-like terror that could devour them in an instant.
