Chapter Twenty-Five
The moment he entered, Theodore Winslow’s steely gaze trained on Martin and the two appeared to be in a mental stare down. Nicoh took the opportunity to sit upright, looking a little drunk and discombobulated from whatever concoction Clark had popped him with. Though it was hard to dislike the man any more than I already did, the abuse he continued to inflict upon my canine companion reserved him a very special spot in Hell. My mental meanderings were distracted by Theodore, who swiftly moved toward Nicoh and began securing him roughly.
“Hey! There’s no need for that!” Theodore ignored me, using a rope to tie Nicoh to a nearby pallet. Nicoh howled and thrashed but in his sluggish condition was no match for the man’s deft handiwork. After ensuring Nicoh was restrained,
