JONAS’ POV
The cold bit me deep inside me.
It bit through the fabric of my shirt, through my skin, through my bones.
I sat in the pitch dark, chained to the wall of cell cell like some common criminal. The air was damp, musty. It smelled like blood and something else that was horrible. The stone beneath me was hard, soaking up my body heat until I was shivering from the inside out. Every breath I took was shallow, quiet—like even the air itself was afraid to move too loud in that cursed place.
My wrists ached where the metal cuffs had bruised them. Blood had dried along the sides of my mouth from the beating earlier. I kept blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness, but there was no light to welcome my eyes. Nothing. Just black walls and a faint trickle of water echoing from somewhere
