Chapter 72

• AUBREY
• Pain cuts through the darkness like shattered glass, dragging me back to consciousness with cruel efficiency. My skull throbs with every heartbeat, and my limbs feel like they're made of lead. I try to move and metal clanks against stone—shackles bind my wrists and ankles to the damp basement walls.
• The air tastes of mold and despair. A single flickering candle provides the only light, casting dancing shadows across crumbling stone. Water drips somewhere in the darkness, each drop marking time I don't have.