POV: Third Person
Marrow had learned a long time ago that just staying alive wasn't the same thing as actually living.
He lived in an underground room that was cold, dark, and purposely hidden away. Black Tide used places like this for people they wanted to keep close but didn't want anyone to see. He was useful to them, but he was also someone they could throw away at any moment. The air down there smelled like damp dirt and old metal. It was the kind of place where you could scream as loud as you wanted and nobody would ever hear you.
He sat at a small table with his back against the wall. His fingers tapped a slow, steady beat on the wood. It was an old habit from years of waiting for orders that usually came too late or for trouble that came too fast.
Across from him, a cheap burne
