The morning light that spilled into the corridor wasn't bright or welcoming. It was gray, cold, and heavy with the distant, unmistakable scent of burnt cordite, wet ash, and rain.
Asher stood in the doorway. The sight of him made the tight knot in my chest unravel just a fraction. He looked entirely whole, thank God, but the aura radiating off him was terrifying. It was the Sovereign—the absolute, lethal ruler of the underground who had just defended his throne with blood. He didn't say a word at first; he simply stepped forward, his large arms wrapping around me and Leo, grounding us in the reality that the immediate raid had failed.
