Chapter Eight
Blood and death, brother. Blood and death…
Cole’s words echoed again through Dorian’s memory as he and Charlotte descended into the darkness, the pungent air damn near choking them both.
Charlotte’s heart rate was completely erratic, fear and adrenaline flooding her bloodstream until he hardly recognized her scent.
Please, he thought, recalling Sasha’s bright blue eyes, her smile. Please let this be anything but that beautiful, vibrant girl…
“Dorian.” Charlotte gripped his arm, her body trembling as they reached the lower floor and the situation came into view.
A long worktable covered in papers and books and supplies. A high-backed wooden chair. A cabinet of jars and bundled herbs. Two squat, grimy windows near the ceiling, hidden from the outside with brush and debris
