Ruthless

The winter night in Krixsas was ruthless, each gust biting sharper than a blade.

The cold seeped through Eleanor Harvey, sinking deeper than skin, until it felt like her bones themselves shivered.

As she tried to sit up, a dizzy spell blurred her vision, spinning the room into a disorienting haze.

Before she could steady herself, a rough hand twisted in her hair, jerking her backward. A harsh slap cracked through the silence, and pain flared bright and hot across her face, her dizziness deepening into a dark, suffocating whirl.

After hours at the autopsy table, Eleanor had been bone-tired, already on her way home when she got drugged and kidnapped.

When she came to, she recognized the faint, sweet odor lingering in the air—a scent she knew all too well from her time in the operating room.

Ether. They had used it to incapacitate her. A commonplace anesthetic, low in toxicity, primarily employed to induce general anesthesia.

The dull ache on her cheek was nothing compared to the confusion clouding her mind. She staggered to the window, prying it open with trembling fingers, and gulped the cold night air that flooded in, gradually cutting through the haze.

Then, a low chuckle slid through the silence.

Eleanor froze, turning slowly to find the source.

In the room's faint, flickering light, a woman lounged in a velvet chair, draped in garish attire and exuding an air of calculated menace.

Behind her loomed two silent, stone-faced men, their bulks casting dark shadows across the walls.

Eleanor's eyes darted among them, tension coiling tighter with every heartbeat.

"Who… are you? Why have you brought me here?"

The woman leaned back, lighting a cigarette with practiced grace, inhaling deeply. Her gaze, sharp as glass, fixed on Eleanor.

"Yesterday, did you happen to perform an autopsy on a woman who allegedly jumped to her death?"

An uneasy prickle crawled up Eleanor's spine, but she nodded, uncertain where this was leading.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "What did the autopsy reveal?"

Eleanor swallowed, the grim details flashing through her mind like fractured memories. "She…she'd been brutalized before she died. Broken bones, extensive bruising, and…"

The woman arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint, almost mocking smile. "And…?"

Gritting her teeth, Eleanor forced herself to continue. "There were unmistakable signs of…assault. Sperms from more than ten people were found in her body."

A low chuckle slipped from the woman's lips, dark and mocking. "I'm Gemma Buckley," she said, her tone lilting with dangerous amusement.

She rose from her seat, moving toward Eleanor with a slow, deliberate grace.

Her smile vanished, replaced by a sharp, predatory coldness.

"Now, I suggest you give me every detail. If you're withholding anything…well, let's just say you'd be wise not to follow in that poor woman's footsteps."

Eleanor's pulse quickened, her breaths shallow.

"Where am I?" she instinctively asked.

"Skyline Casino," came the clipped reply.