Dos’ Point of View
The room was dark—too dark.
The only light came from the red glow of a single security camera blinking in the corner and the faint strip of light from beneath the closed door. My wrists ached from the tight binds; my shoulders screamed from being chained above my head for hours.
My coat was gone. My shirt, stained with June’s blood, lay crumpled on the floor. I hadn’t moved since they threw me in here.
I didn’t care.
I’d stopped counting the hours. Maybe it was day. Maybe night. None of it mattered.
I failed.
And failure had a price.
The heavy steel door groaned open. Harsh white light spilled in. I didn’t lift my head. I didn’t need to.
I knew those footsteps.
Click. Click.
Polished leather shoes.
Boss.
“Lift his head,” the voice ordered, calm, sharp, emoti
