"How long have you known that your father was the mastermind behind my nightmare?" Bisma asked, his voice echoing through the dark factory corridor, chilling her to the absolute core.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.
Outside the decaying industrial walls, the storm raged on, driving icy rain and sleet against the high, rusted iron window frames of the neighboring maintenance building. The scent of damp concrete, electric ozone, machine oil, and fresh blood hung thick in the cold air. Inside the dimly lit maintenance room, the only light came from the erratic amber pulse of a distant streetlamp filtering through the grime-covered skylight above.
Bisma stood completely motionlessly, his towering silhouette carved against the shadows. In his gloved right
