Something was wrong.
I could feel it in my bones, in the restless churning of my wolf beneath my skin. The further we crept through these dank sewers, the stronger the feeling grew.
"We're almost there," Ronan whispered ahead of me, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light of these underground tunnels. The stench of decay and waste made it difficult to isolate any specific scents, but my instincts were screaming at me.
"Hold," I commanded softly, raising my fist. The team of eight elite warriors behind us immediately froze.
"What is it?" Ronan asked, turning back to me, his face tense.
"It feels wrong." I inhaled deeply, trying to parse through the overwhelming odors. "Like we're walking into—"
"A trap?" Ronan finished, his eyes narrowing.
I nodded grimly. "But we can't turn back now." I thought of Seraphina and Rhys, safely hidden in our bunker. The sooner we eliminated Malakor, the sooner they would truly be safe.
