Chapter 47 Reunion In Chains
- The walls bled cold.
- Thick stone, remnants of some long-abandoned municipal bunker, now retrofitted for discretion. No sound leaked out. No time trickled in. Dorian sat on the metal bench, wrists cuffed in front of him chain slack but unforgiving. No mirror, no clock. Only the drone of air cycling through vents too high to reach.
- He’d lost track of days.