The room was cold. Not just the kind of cold that bit at the skin, but the kind that crawled into the bones and settled there — heavy, unyielding. A single light flickered overhead, casting weak shadows on the concrete floor. I sat on a metal chair, wrists tied, throat raw from screaming.
I didn’t know how long I’d been here. Hours, maybe days. Time didn’t make sense anymore.
The door screeched open, and my heart jolted.
Andrew stepped in, calm as ever, holding a cup of coffee — like this was a casual visit. His suit was flawless, his shoes polished, his expression detached. Behind him, two guards dragged someone else into the room. My blood turned to ice.
“Ivy,” I choked.
She was bound, gagged, bruises blooming across her arms. Her eyes found mine — wide, terrified, pleading.
“Don’t
