AVELINA’S POV
The walls are covered in old paintings and dust-covered wine bottles. It's a dead vineyard, perfect for men who feast on ghosts.
When we reached the corridor, they left me under the watch of a guard whose grin was wider than the others. He talked about how Orlando would do well to have me on stage tonight. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath while listening to him. Before I could process anything, two men dragged me up.
The grinning guard's nails dug into my skin as if I were luggage. Pushing me forward, the other guard barked orders at me like a tired wolf. They kept me walking, dragging my feet through corridors that smelled of old wood and crushed grapes. Dried flakes of paint fell from the walls.
One guard held a flashlight, keeping his eyes away from me. At the e
