Luna’s POV
The basement light never changed. No windows, no clocks—just that single harsh bulb burning overhead like it wanted to sear my retinas.
They had left me chained to the bolted metal chair. My wrists were zip tied behind the backrest. My ankles lashed to the legs. My shoulders ached from the angle. My knees throbbed where the concrete had chewed them raw during the drag. Dried blood cracked on my skin.
I didn’t sleep. I counted my breaths instead. Counted the seconds until I could make someone bleed for this.
Dawn came. I knew it only because the air shifted—grew fractionally less stale, like the world above had cracked open for a moment.
Then the heavy door groaned.
Dante stepped inside alone.
He was holding nothing but just a knife. The blade caught the light and it glist
