Everything happened too fast. An explosion. Vander, Mylo, and Claggor—gone. Despair consumed her. Violet just needed a moment to breathe. But before she could act, before she could run back to Powder, she saw Silco standing there. And then Marcus grabbed her, knocking her out cold.

When she woke, she was on a boat, the air thick with fog that made it hard to breathe. The muddy water reflected her broken world. Her right shoulder throbbed, injured and untreated—no one cared about the comfort of a prisoner. Rough enforcer hands shoved her into a Stillwater Hold cell. She stumbled, barely catching herself as the cold, gray concrete walls closed in. Sliding down to the floor against the wall, she tried to steady her breath. The clang of the cell door locking echoed, final and unyielding. Tears welled in her eyes, but Violet angrily wiped them away. Weakness had no place here.

Her tangled, shoulder-length red hair stuck to her face, damp from the rain. Soot from the explosion still marked her skin, and blood stained her hands. Her family was gone. Powder was lost to her, and she didn’t know what had become of her little sister. Everything felt broken. Her fists clenched as she grabbed her head, struggling to keep it together. There was no escape now. Vander’s cast-iron gloves had been taken, and the guards left her bruised and battered, indifferent to the fact that she was just 15 years old.