a's
st. The muscles in his jaw worked, and for a terrifying second
nes grind together under his grip. A strangled cry of pain escaped my lips. This wasn't the
reign and guttural. It wasn't a ca
red in the doorway. They moved with a silent, unnerving speed. One
n snarled, shoving me toward them. "T
otest. Their grips were like iron vises. They began to drag me fro
gainst them, but it was useless. It was
. The guests turned to watch, their expressions a mixture of cold curiosity
She stood perfectly poised, a champagne flute in her hand, watching
were all in on it. This was their wor
a damp, cold corridor. The air smelled of mildew and rust. At the end of the ha
omething from a medieval dungeon. I couldn't wrap my head aroundthe cage door, the sound of metal scraping ond elbows cracking against the cold metal floor,
a deafening clang. The lock cli
said, his voice flat and devoid of em
ain. My voice shook.
the cellar were switched off, leaving only a single, dim wall sconce that cast long, m
ide. But the physical ache was nothing compared to the terror that was now cons
s there. Time seemed to st
I he
d. These were measured, deliberate, and powerful. Each step seemed to land with an impossible weight,
pped directly in
the slide of metal into the lock, an
nd a tall, powerful silhouette filled the do
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