Reed stared up at the man, grip tightening around his broken sword. He wasn't fooling himself—he was in no condition to fight, not against someone who looked this composed. But surrender? Not a chance.
The man crouched at the cellar's edge, elbows resting on his knees. He studied them, head tilting slightly.
"Can't say I expected to find anyone alive," he murmured. "You two must be quite lucky."
Reed didn't answer. His breathing was slow, measured. The only thing keeping him from keeling over was sheer willpower.
The man's eyes flickered toward Lena. "And you… It really is you, isn't it?"
Lena stiffened.
Reed caught the slight tremor in her fingers. She knows who he is. And he knows her.
Shit.
The man exhaled through his nose, almost amused. "I imagine you've been through quite a lot. But don't worry." He spread his arms in mock reassurance. "I'm not here to kill you."
That wasn't comforting.
He was still blocking the only exit.
"You must be exhausted," the man continued, voice smooth. "You, especially." His gaze flicked to Reed. "From the looks of it, you shouldn't even be sitting upright."
Reed didn't give him the satisfaction of a response.
The man smiled. "You're cautious. That's good. But really, I mean no harm."
He stepped forward, dropping into the cellar.
Reed reacted on instinct. He forced himself to move, to lunge—
But his body betrayed him.
Pain lanced through his side. His vision blurred, legs buckling. The sword slipped from his fingers, clattering against the stone.
Shit.
The man didn't even flinch.
Lena grabbed Reed before he collapsed completely, her small frame straining to hold him up.
"Tch." The man clicked his tongue. "Look at you. A little more and you'll bleed out right here."
He reached into his cloak.
Reed gritted his teeth. If he pulls out a weapon, I swear to—
A vial.
Dark liquid swirled inside.
He tossed it, and Lena barely caught it with shaking hands.
"A healing draught," he said, casual. "A proper one, too. Should keep him from dropping dead in the next hour."
Lena's fingers tightened around the glass.
Reed forced his head up. "Why?" His voice was hoarse, but steady.
The man smiled. "Because I'd rather not carry you both."
A pause.
Then he continued, voice light—too light.
"And because my employer is very interested in speaking with you."
Reed's stomach twisted.
They weren't being rescued.
They were being taken.