AMBER POV
The air in the room was damp and heavy, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Shadows clung to the rough stone walls, and the faint metallic tang of rust lingered in the back of my throat. I couldn’t tell how long we’d been here—24 hours, maybe more. Time had dissolved into the oppressive monotony of this place. The only marker was the boy, who had come three times now, each time bringing the same meager meals of lukewarm soup and stale bread.
He was always the same: silent, jittery, his movements quick and nervous, like a rabbit that knew it was being watched. But it was the way he looked at Vic that gnawed at me, every glance filled with something I couldn’t quite name—fear, pain, anger, or maybe all three. Whatever it was, it set my
