Chapter 61
- Dorian‘s pov.
- The moment I reached the outskirts of the Taverna, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My boots crunched over the gravel path, each step heavy with tension I couldn’t shake. The Taverna was alive—voices, laughter, the clatter of tankards—but my eyes scanned the crowd with precision, dissecting every face, every movement.
- Then I saw him.