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Brute 115

    ATASHA’S POV


    :


    43


    55 vouchers


    If the ground could open and swallow me whole, I would dly let it. Better that than standing here, pretending I wasn’t reying thest few minutes in my head like some kind of shameless fool. Cassian’s mouth, the weight of him, the way my legs had wrapped around his waist, goddess, I wanted to dig a hole in the cabin floor and bury myself in it.


    I should have been focusing on Halden and Grace, who were talking with Cassian just a few steps away, but I couldn’t. My ears rang with their words, yet all I could hear was my own heartbeat.


    He had asked me, what have you done to me? And then he kissed me again. Not once or twice but over and over again until my body felt like it had forgotten how to breathe without him pressed against me.


    And if that wasn’t enough to ruin me, there was the hard press I’d felt against my waist. I nearly covered my face at the memory. Married or not, nothing had prepared me for that. The thought of it made me want tobust from sheer embarrassment. I wasn’t ready. At least, that’s what my mind insisted. My body, however, hadn’t seemed to care.


    “Are you certain it was Matron Yara?” Cassian’s voice cut through my stupor, low and sharp, pulling me back to the present.


    I forced my gaze away from him, away from the memory of his lips, and toward Halden. His face was pale, his arm still bound from Reina’s de, but his eyes were steady when they flicked to me before settling back on Cassian.


    Halden nodded. “It was her. The Matron persuaded Reina toe here, even knowing the danger. My daughter spoke her name before she turned her de against me. But beyond that, she refuses to say more.”


    I turned toward Grace, hoping for something else, some detail that would make this make sense. She looked grim, her hand still resting on the hilt of her sword as if she didn’t trust the quiet. “Reina won’t speak another word. She’s either <i>too </i>afraid… or too far gone under Yara’s influence.”


    I tightened my grip on my own hands, my embarrassment giving way to something heavier. Matron Yara. The name alone made the air feel colder.


    And for the first time since Cassian kissed me, I managed to push away the heat and shame twisting inside me. Something darker was brewing outside these walls.


    Then, Cassian stood suddenly, the chair scraping against the floor as his voice cut through the room. “Follow


    me.”


    I rose quickly, my body reacting before my mind caught up. But before I stepped after him, my gaze slid back to Halden. His expression was drawn, worn down by exhaustion and pain, yet steady in its restraint.


    “Thank you,” I said softly. “For trying to stop your daughter.”


    Halden blinked, as though my words caught him off guard. He hesitated, then pushed himself up to bow stiffly. The gesture looked wrong. On impulse, I reached out and caught his shoulder before he could lower fully.


    <b>20:32 </b>Wed<b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>24 </b>


    :


    43


    55 vouchers.


    The contact froze him. His eyes widened when heat seeped from my hand into his arm, sliding into his wound. The torn flesh under the bandage knit back together in a slow ripple, his skin smoothing until the injury was gone. His lips parted. “You-”


    I nced at Cassian, then back to Halden. “Almost everyone knows by now that I can heal. There’s no point in letting someone suffer when I can stop it.” I let my hand fall away. “Recover well.”


    Halden looked at me as if he wasn’t sure whether to thank me or kneel again, but I didn’t give him the chance. Cassian’s silence was heavy, his eyes unreadable, and then he turned on his heel. “Follow me.”


    I didn’t argue this time. I moved after him.


    The moment we stepped outside, a small cluster of soldiers was waiting. They bowed the instant they saw us. Their voices were subdued, their eyes flicking between Cassian and me with something like awe. I gave the smallest nod in return, my stomach tight, and kept pace behind Cassian.


    He led me across the yard, past the barracks, toward the heavy iron door sunk into the earth at the far edge of thepound. Two guards pulled it open, and the stench hit me before we even started down the steps.


    The dungeon was underground, the air damp and suffocating. The stone steps were slick, worn smooth by years of use, and each one carried us deeper until the faint light from the door above was gone. Torches guttered along the walls, but they did little to fight back the shadows.


    The smell grew worse with every step. Sweat, old blood, and rot mixed into a foul heaviness that clung to the back of my throat. And beneath it all was another stench, human waste, acrid and overwhelming. My stomach


    churned.


    At the bottom, the corridor stretched in both directions, narrow and lined with cells. Rusted bars caged in the darkness, and from inside came the sounds of chains scraping against stone and the asional groan of the prisoners. Water dripped somewhere, echoing down the hall. Every surface was damp, slick with grime, and the floor was coated with filth that made me want to lift my skirts higher.


    It reeked of misery, and of lives left to rot.


    Cassian didn’t slow, his stride steady and unbothered as though the dungeon was nothing new to him. I forced myself to keep up, my hands tightening at my sides to stop the tremor that tried to take hold.


    Cassian stopped at a reinforced door halfway down the hall and worked the irontch. The hinges protested as he hauled it open.


    The cell was small and wet. A single torch threw light across the far wall where Reina hung in chains. Her arms were stretched wide, wrists cuffed and rubbed raw. Blood had dried in dark lines down her forearms. One eye was swollen, her lip split, hair matted against her cheeks. The stink of fear and old sweat clung to her.


    Her gaze snapped to us. For a heartbeat she looked ready to spit, but the expression broke when she saw who stood beside me. Her eyes widened.


    Cassian stepped inside without a word. He didn’t ask questions. Instead, he drew a dagger from his belt and drove the point through the meat of her forearm, clean between the bones.


    Reina screamed. The chains rattled hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling. Blood welled fast and ran over his knuckles before he pulled the de free.


    Then, he turned to me. “Heal her.”
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