CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tom woke to sunlight stabbing through his eyes.
For a heartbeat, he didn't remember where he was. Then the smell of iron, damp stone, and old blood crawled into his lungs, and memory snapped back into place. He raised his hands slowly, squinting at them.
No bruises. No broken bones. No scars where there should've been scars.
Everything was healed.
He flexed his fingers, half-expecting pain—or power. Nothing came. He still felt like himself. Still small. Still fragile.
He swung his legs off the slab and stood. His body held, steady and light, as if it had never been broken at all.
Before he could take a second step, the doors burst open.
Two guards strode in—hybrids, unmistakable. Vampire sharpness in their eyes, werewolf mass in their frames. Their presence alone made the air feel heavier.
A voice echoed from the corridor.
"It's time."
"What—wait!" Tom protested as they grabbed him. "Time for what? No one has told me anything!"
