Helena sat on the cold, gray stone floor of the dank cell in Alexander’s house. The bastard had locked her up for three days. The stone was rough and unforgiving beneath her, seeping its chill through her thin clothing.
She leaned against the damp wall, the smell of mildew and decay filling her nostrils, wondering when this madness would finally be over.
Her thoughts kept circling back to her husband, Bruno. A spineless coward, that’s what he was. It angered her to no end that he hadn’t come for her. But even more than her own predicament, she was worried about Iris. The girl’s safety weighed heavily on her heart.
Helena sensed danger closing in. She needed to warn Iris to flee before it was too late. She had seen the evil in Alexander’s eyes, the way he relished in others’ pain.
He
