Adrian's POV
I overheard footsteps approaching and rushed behind a dark corner I had seen earlier, pressing myself into the shadows to hide, unsure of who it was that drew near.
My heart pounded in my chest as my mind swirled with possibilities of being caught, of being dragged before my father, the punishment he would deal. I was not ready to face him. Not now and definitely not like this.
A man stumbled in minutes later, his face streaked with tears. From the gap in the corner where I hid, I caught sight of the sickle in his hand, the kind most farmers in the pack used to harvest roots.
I frowned, unsure at first why he carried it, but then my gaze followed his direction. He was heading toward Lance.
Lance's hands had been bound above him, rope tied to the ceiling beams. His body dangled in the air, swaying whenever a strong draft passed through or when he made the slightest move on his own.
"You bastard!" the man cried out in a voice broken by sobs.
