Skye's POV
It was past midnight when I slipped away from my chambers, the halls of the palace quiet under the silver light of the moon. Everyone else was asleep—at least, I hoped they were. I moved like a shadow between the columns, the only sound accompanying me was the soft clinking of the lamp I held in one hand. Its glow flickered gently, illuminating my path through the winding stone halls that led beneath the palace.
To the dungeon. To him.
Damian had been locked away in the lowest level of the prison, separated from the rest of his pack. My father had made sure of it. He said it was for safety—both his and ours. But I knew it was more than that. He wanted to isolate him, to break him slowly, one stone wall at a time.
I told myself I wasn’t going there for him.
I wasn’t visiting
