THE DYING AND THE DAMNED.
Vivienne’s POV
The world tilted as I hit the ground, my knees slamming hard against the stone. Pain exploded through my legs, but I barely gasped. The air in the dungeon was dense with rot and the stink of sweat and despair.
“Welcome to your new home,” one of the guards sneered, his voice a disgusting mix of amusement and cruelty.
I braced myself on shaking hands, my arms burning with the effort. Before I could lift my head, a boot cracked against my ribs. I collapsed again with a strangled breath, pain radiating through my side like lightning.
Laughter.
Then retreating footsteps.
The iron door screeched shut behind them, sealing the stench and suffering inside.
I stayed there, curled on my side, breaths shallow and jagged. Every inch of me ached. My ribs
