The long-awaited lunch finally came. The sound of steps coming from what seemed to be a horde of men resounded throughout the dungeon.
Irene’s head shot up, her eyes meeting Owen’s as they were sitting on the opposite ends of the cell room. He had one knee up with his right arm on it and the other leg lying on the cold floor. The edge of his lips curled into a smirk. ‘Let’s play’ he mouthed.
They had used their free time to perfect their plan. Irene would ask something of one of the guards (tampon, as Owen had insisted her ask) so she’d get a clear view of his eyes, getting her job done easier. And once she was inside his head, Owen would do his part, then she’d tell the guard to get the key and open the cells. He had said his limit would be five minutes before colors drained from his fa
