He could tell, even without seeing, that the boss—the deep-voiced man who had ordered his captors' deaths—was not in the carriage with him. That should have been a relief, but somehow, it wasn't. Instead, he was seated across from the man who had caught him when he fell earlier.
Riven swallowed, his throat dry. He didn't know what to expect from this one. He had been careful with him, adjusting his bindings so they wouldn't hurt. Yet at the same time, he had made sure Riven had no chance of escape.
What kind of person was he dealing with?
Clearing his throat, he decided to test the waters. "Wh-where am I being taken to?"
Silence.
The air remained still, save for the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels against the road. The man didn't answer, didn't even shift in his seat. It was as if he hadn't heard the question at all.
Riven's tail flicked in frustration. He opened his mouth to try again—
The carriage took a sharp turn.
