Nicholas
The blood on the wallpaper near the floor was still damp.
I dropped to one knee in the ruined hotel room, my broad frame trembling as my fingers brushed the edge of the crimson stain. A sharp, terrifying agony ripped through my chest, violent enough to bring me to my knees.
No. No, no, no.
My phone vibrated violently in my coat pocket.
I snatched it out, my white-knuckle grip almost crushing the screen. An unknown, encrypted number had sent a single video file. With shaking hands, I pressed play.
The screen flickered to life.
The footage showed a dim, damp concrete basement illuminated by a single hanging bulb. In the center of the room, Faith was bound tightly to a heavy wooden chair with thick rope. Her dark hair was disheveled, her pale face bruised, and a trail of blood
