Lucas’s POV
The rogues below moved like ants around their nest, still hauling crates, dipping blades in wolfsbane. Every breath I took burned my throat from the smell.
“Too many,” Ryn whispered. His hand hovered near his bowstring, eyes narrowing as he tracked their movements. “At least fifty down there, maybe more in the trees.”
“We shouldn’t stay here long,” Jarek muttered. His dagger flashed as he shifted his grip. “We’ve seen enough, let’s get back to Kane before they—”
Snap.
The sound was small, it was barely a twig but every head below snapped up.
“s**t,” Ryn hissed.
One of them, a hulking rogue with scarred arms and a missing ear turned his nose toward us and snarled. Then he pointed. “Up there!”
“Move!” I roared.
Arrows whistled before the word left my mouth. We dove behin
