Jade's POV
The stone walls of the Blackwood packhouse felt less like a sanctuary and more like a tomb.
I paced the length of the grand study, my boots clicking sharply against the dark hardwood floors. Every few seconds, my hand would instinctively fly to my waist, searching for the reassuring weight of my daggers, only to find empty air. They had let me out of the dungeons, yes. They allowed me to roam the upper levels, sure. But I was still a hunter in a fortress of wolves, and right now, my blood was boiling.
"If you keep pacing like that, you're going to wear a hole straight through the rug, sweetheart."
I snapped my head toward the sound of that smooth, low drawl. Rhys sat on the edge of the massive mahogany desk, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He looked completely relaxed, a faint, infuriating smirk playing on his lips, but I knew him better now. I could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers subtly twitched against his thigh.
