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Chapter 115 REGRETS AND WHAT-IFS
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... fort.
Stone walls sweated dampness, the air thick with mildew and the metallic tang of blood.
Every sound—the drip of water, the clank of chains, the scuff of boots on stone—echoed with an ominous life of its own.
The torches cast long, quivering shadows across the walls, turning the narrow passage into something that felt alive.
I’d walked this corridor a hundred times before, and tonight, Gavin’s words still rang in my ears: We’ve caught the mastermind. He’s in ...
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