Chapter 30. Stone Silence

Aria sat up slowly. Her bones groaned. Something pulled against her neck—she reached up and felt raw skin there. No collar, but the memory of one lingered like a phantom. She shifted her weight, wincing. Her ribs ached. Her thigh throbbed where the rogue had bit deep. Someone had bandaged it, roughly, and bound the wound with fabric that smelled faintly of herbs. So they hadn’t left her to die.

She was in a cell. Stone walls, iron door, no window beyond the slit. A bucket in the corner. A tattered wool blanket beside her, stiff with old use. That was it. No food. No water. No voices.

Her throat burned. She swallowed nothing. Then she stood.

The world tilted.

She braced a palm against the wall, forcing herself upright. Every instinct screamed to shift—to escape this fragile skin and melt into the wolf’s power—but Ayra remained silent. Caged by exhaustion or something deeper. Fear, maybe. Or caution.

They hadn’t chained her.

She limped to the door,