Nathan's face was hard as he led Duncan down the narrow stairs into the dimly lit basement. The air was cool and smelled of damp concrete. In the center of the room, Catherine was lashed to a heavy wooden chair, her wrists and ankles bound tight with thick rope. Her expensive hair was a mess, and her makeup was smudged, but when she saw them, she didn't look afraid. She looked like she was winning.
"Look at the two of you," Catherine sneered, her voice echoing off the cold walls. "The pathetic father and the lovesick hero. It's almost touching."
Duncan stepped forward, his hands shaking. He looked at the girl he had helped raise, the girl he had given everything to while his own daughter suffered in silence. "How could you do it, Catherine? How could you hire someone to run down your own sister? To sell her like a piece of meat to a Russian mobster?"
