The warehouse was silent except for the sound of dripping water.
Chains rattled softly from the ceiling.
The air was cold, damp, and heavy with the smell of rust.
Liam sat on the floor, his hands tied behind his back, face bruised, shirt torn.
Blood stained his lip. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat.
Two of Lucian’s men stood near the door, guarding him.
Marco entered first, his footsteps echoing.
He carried a metal chair and placed it in front of Liam.
A moment later, Lucian walked in. His black coat brushed against the floor, his face unreadable.
He didn’t sit. He just stood there, looking at Liam in silence.
After a long moment, Lucian said quietly, “You look better than you should.”
Liam smirked weakly. “Your men are gentle.”
Lucian’s eyes stayed cold. “They can be
