Meanwhile, deep in the West Wing of the mansion...
Kaelo had never liked silence or darkness.
Not this kind.
Not the suffocating, endless, heavy silence that pressed against her from every direction, crushing her lungs and crawling beneath her skin like thousands of invisible insects.
The room was cold. Windowless. Hidden deep within one of Adrian Blake's most secure sections of the mansion... the West Wing.
A place reserved exclusively for people who had disappointed him. And in Adrian's world, disappointment was often far more dangerous than outright failure. It carried the slow, inevitable promise of suffering.
Kaelo sat restrained to a heavy metal chair bolted to the floor. Her body was a map of pain. Deep purple bruises covered her ribs and abdomen where Grigor had methodically worked her over all night.
