(Ava’s POV)
The sound of metal grinding open broke the monotony of silence. I didn’t look up at first. I had learned that in this place, lifting your head too quickly made you look weak. But then I heard the soft, uncertain shuffle of footsteps. Lighter than the usual guards. Less practiced. Less cruel.
It was her again—Mira. The young recruit barely older than seventeen, her Hollow Fang crest fresh and stitched onto her tattered jacket like it was still trying to settle into her skin. She was supposed to bring food and leave without talking. But lately, she lingered longer. Watched me with those unsure eyes that flickered with something more dangerous than hatred: doubt.
“Didn’t think you’d survive the last beating,” she muttered, setting the tray on the ground between the bars. Her vo
