The road leading to the dilapidated tavern was narrow and suffocating, hemmed in by skeletal trees that clawed at the twilight sky. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of silence between them pressing down like a storm cloud waiting to break.
Taryn walked ahead of the group, her boots crunching against the gravel path. She kept her eyes on the ground, unwilling to look back at the men trailing her. The bitter remnants of their last argument clung to the air, and the tension had yet to loosen its grip on her chest.
Behind her, Lucien spoke, his voice dripping with mock cheer. "So, what are we betting on? A warm welcome or knives at our throats?"
Taryn didn't turn. "Save your breath, Lucien."
"Oh, come now," he pressed, his tone lighter than the weight he carried. "What's a little levity among friends?"
