The iron door of the holding cell groaned on its hinges, a tortured sound that set the tone for the room beyond.
I stepped into the dim, subterranean space. The smell of damp concrete and metallic blood hit me instantly.
In the center of the room, strapped to a heavy wooden chair, was the man who had forgotten who I was.
The animal that had dared to put his hands on Amaya.
My Amaya.
Three of my senior guards, led by the Captain, were already at work.
One of them landed a heavy blow to the man’s ribs, a sickening crunch echoed off the walls.
They only stop when I entered.
"That’s enough," I said.
The guards stepped back, breathing hard, their knuckles stained.
The man in the chair whose name I did not remember and did not care to, lolloped his head forward.
His face was a m
