Mark was close. One wrist nearly free—skin raw, bleeding—but the chair wobbled with every yank. He gritted his teeth, pulling again, ignoring the pain, the torn muscle, the bruised bone.
Almost there. Just a little more—
The door creaked open.
He froze.
His eyes snapped up—heart thudding.
Ronnie.
She stood in the doorway for half a second before Kyle shoved her forward. She stumbled, crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud. Her body hit the concrete floor beside Mark’s feet, limbs splayed like a discarded doll.
She didn’t move.
“RONNIE!”
Mark jerked at his restraints, the unfinished knot tearing more skin. His vision blurred with red—rage, pain, helplessness.
"Veronica… Jesus Christ."
She was barely recognizable. Blood matted her hair, smeared down her face in streaks. Her
