Liam stared at the red-haired woman standing in the dim light of his hidden sanctuary, heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword until his knuckles ached. Just minutes ago, he had barely escaped death in the chaos outside—blood still crusted on his sleeves, lungs burning from the run. And now this. No sign of the girls. No laughter from the kids. Only her, sitting there as if she owned the place.
"Who the hell are you?" he rasped, voice rough with exhaustion and fear.
The woman tilted her head, her crimson hair catching what little light filtered through the cracks in the stone walls. "My name is Laila," she said calmly, her tone almost gentle. "And don't worry. The kids and the girls are in a safe place."
