The basement's air conditioner droned low and steady. Aurora huddled in a corner, her wrists bruised purple from the ropes. Three days had passed without a single word spoken to her. Each day, at the same hour, someone would enter, forcing her to relive the pain Clara had endured.
Today, a wolf in black gloves approached, holding a steaming bowl of soup. His face was a blank mask.
"No… please…" Aurora's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. She pressed herself against the cold wall, nowhere left to retreat.
He ignored her pleas, splashing the scalding soup across her collarbone and arms.
"Ah—!!"
The searing pain tore a scream from her. Angry red welts bloomed on her skin, her body shaking as tears streamed down. The wolf gave her a cold glance and left, the door slamming shut, plunging
