Avery's POV
The air felt suffocating, thick with unspoken tension. My body was still rigid from my argument with Dylan, but the sudden sound of approaching footsteps sent a different kind of shiver down my spine.
Heavy. Calculated. Unhurried. Whoever was coming wasn't in a rush.
Dylan stiffened beside me, his posture shifting subtly. His usual air of arrogance was replaced with something quieter, something more dangerous. He was preparing for an attack.
The moonlight cast long shadows around us as figures emerged from the dim corridor.
And then, I saw them.
At the forefront stood a man dressed in black, tall and poised, exuding an aura of control that made my pulse spike. He walked with the effortless confidence of someone accustomed to power, his presence so commanding that it felt like the air itself bent to accommodate him.
But my eyes barely lingered on him before locking onto the people behind him.
My breath hitched immediately.