Sienna's fingers twitched at her sides. That instinct—the sharp, primal wrongness prickling at the back of her neck—wasn't something she could rationalize away.
She had walked into this dungeon with a dozen allies, the weight of noble names, enchanted equipment, and arrogance on her side. But now, as Ethan's laughter died into silence and his presence pressed down like a vice, none of that seemed to matter.
Ethan turned his gaze toward her, and this time… there was no anger, no accusation. Just understanding. As if he could read her thoughts. As if he had expected the betrayal all along.
"No," Ethan said softly, to no one in particular. "I'm not alone."
"What the hell is this idiot talking about?" Damon shouted in pain. "Just kill him already. I need a healer. Can't you see?!"
