I yanked against the rope again. It burned my wrists. The fibers dug into my skin, but I didn’t stop. With one final twist, the rope snapped.
My hands flew forward. I was free. I rubbed my wrists, ignoring the sting, and pushed myself up. Where the hell was I?
The air reeked of rust and damp concrete. Chains hung from the ceiling, and the walls were lined with deadly tools. This wasn’t just a room—it was a slaughterhouse.
Then I saw it.
A single black shoe lay a few feet away. Delilah’s.
My stomach twisted. I rushed forward, snatching it up. It was still warm. She had been here.
A loud, mechanical whirring filled the space. My head snapped up.
Gears groaned as chains rattled. Something was descending from the ceiling. My breath hitched as the shadows shifted—then I saw it.
A massi
