The warehouse smelled of salt, rust, and old oil. The sound of the ocean lapping against the pylons outside echoed through the cavernous space, a rhythmic, mocking taunt.
Julian hung from a chain bolted to the ceiling, his wrists raw and bleeding where the metal cuffs cut into his skin. His shirt was gone, his chest a map of bruises and shallow cuts. He had been here for hours. Maybe days. Time had lost its meaning.
He drifted in and out of consciousness, his body screaming in agony, but his mind was sharp, focused entirely on one thing: Elena.
He prayed she was safe. He prayed she had run. He prayed she hadn't come for him.
The heavy metal door groaned open, casting a rectangle of harsh yellow light across the dirty concrete floor.
Julian forced his head up. Vivian walked in, flanked
