Kael sighed—a long, heavy exhale that seemed to drag the weight of the day from his chest—his shoulders slumping as he leaned forward in the creaking chair.
The bruises blooming across his face ached with every shift, but his hazel eyes softened, catching the faint light as they settled on Freya.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low and rough, cutting through the thick quiet of the room. "I forgot about you this morning—Rhea was kicking up hell and all that threw me off." He flicked a glance toward Rhea, still framed in the doorway, arms crossed tight over her bare chest, the black bra stark against her skin.
She caught his look and turned her head sharply, amber eyes darting to the chipped wall, feigning innocence with a faint smirk tugging at her lips—a mask that didn't quite hide the flicker of guilt beneath.
Kael shook his head, a tired gesture, and turned back to Freya, cuffed and soaked on the floor, her platinum-cyan hair clinging damp to her bruised cheeks.
