Scarlett
The packhouse cells were filled with a chilling silence as I made my way back to Rebecca’s cell. My steps were deliberate, my intentions clear and focused. Finn’s protective instincts had been subdued, but my desire for revenge was sharp and exact.
I unlocked the cell door with deliberate movements. Rebecca’s screams echoed off the cold, unyielding walls of her cell, creating a symphony of anguish in my ears. She was shackled to a chair in the center of the damp room, her frail body trembling. Her once haughty demeanor had vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered fear. It was a poetic sight to see the predator become the prey.
“Scarlett,” she rasped, her voice weak from hours of crying. Her tear-streaked face tilted up to meet my gaze, her once-pristine blonde hair now tangled and
