Batista's POV
The next day… everything fell apart.
Our plan — the one Eric and I had whispered about deep into the night while pretending to sleep — was ruined before it even began. I couldn't leave the tent to look for Rain. Hell, I couldn't so much as stretch my legs without a guard's eyes glued to me like a hawk sizing up its prey.
Kai wasn't playing games anymore.
He'd stationed guards at our tent, two of them. Big, mean-looking wolves who didn't smile or talk. They only allowed us out when we needed to use the toilet, and even then, one of them would trail behind, not more than a few steps away, watching as if we'd make a break for it mid-piss. It was humiliating.
The second day dawned gray and heavy, the air thick with something I couldn't name. After a rushed breakfast of bland bread and water, they summoned the three of us to the pack healer.
The room smelled of strong herbs and something sour — like fear soaked into the walls.
