More Trouble
Deep beneath the Kyrkos main estate, there was a room that wasn't listed on any blueprint. Hidden behind a sliding wall in a forgotten wine cellar, the dungeon was cold, damp, and unforgiving. Jared hung from rusted iron chains bolted to the stone ceiling. His shirt was torn, bloodied, and stuck to his bruised skin. One eye was nearly swollen shut, and his lip bled freely. His breathing was ragged, uneven—somewhere between groaning and snarling. Two of Yannis and Adrian's most trusted enforcers stood guard, their knuckles bruised and coated in dried blood. They didn't speak much—just exchanged looks and delivered methodical, merciless blows. "You're lucky it was Adrian who gave the order," one of the men muttered, dragging the chair back across the floor. "If it were Yannis, you'd be de
- Writer
