Ava's head snapped toward the packhouse, her heart lurching in her chest. Fear surged through her veins, cold and unrelenting. Without hesitation, she turned on her heel and sprinted toward the packhouse, her feet pounding against the blood-soaked ground.
The acrid stench of silver, blood, and death hung thick in the air, a suffocating presence that clawed at her throat with every breath. The metallic tang burned her lungs, sharp and oppressive, but she pushed forward, her steps unwavering despite the dread coiling tightly around her chest.
She came to an abrupt stop as she reached the packhouse, her breath catching in her throat at the sight before her.
