Ben gasped awake.
His body jerked as pain registered—his wrists and ankles were tied, bound tightly with rope, blood drying at the edges of the cuts. His back ached from being thrown to the ground, and his throat was sore from screaming.
Across from him sat Marian, also bound, her head hung low, a faint bruise forming along her cheek. She stirred, moaning softly, slowly waking.
Ben turned—and immediately went still.
Daemon stood just a few paces away, arms crossed, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. Beside him stood Nyxtriel, cold and composed, arms folded behind her back. Varian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze narrowed, while William sat quietly on the floor, head lowered, eyes shadowed.
The room was quiet—too quiet.
Ben knew.
The guards had lost.
He sighed bitterly. "I see… So they lost. How pathetic am I…?"
He looked down at his restraints. "You tied us up."
Daemon didn't answer.
