The warehouse was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the city beyond its decaying walls. Adira leaned against a stack of rusted crates, her mind churning as she watched Kane pace the room. His movements were sharp, purposeful, but she could tell he was on edge.
Dorian sat slumped on the floor, his back resting against a broken beam. Finn hovered near him, a damp cloth in hand as he dabbed at the dried blood on Dorian's face.
"Start talking," Kane said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Dorian let out a dry chuckle, wincing as the effort pulled at his bruised ribs. "Straight to the point. I always liked that about you."
Kane's eyes narrowed. "Don't waste my time."
Adira stepped forward, crossing her arms. "We didn't risk our lives to hear you play games. Tell us what you know."
Dorian's gaze flicked to her, and for a moment, something unreadable flashed in his eyes. "You really don't know, do you?"
