MYKEL'S POV:
The room was steeped in shadow.
Only a single dim light hung from the ceiling, swaying ever so slightly, throwing long, restless shadows across the concrete walls. The air smelled of metal, dampness, and something stale, like a place forgotten by the world.
I sat back in my leather chair, one leg crossed over the other, lazily twirling the knife between my fingers.
The blade caught the weak light every now and then, flashing silver in the darkness.
In front of me, Percy was tied to a chair, his wrists bound so tightly the ropes had already cut into his skin. His head lolled to the side at first, but then he stirred slowly, painfully as consciousness crept back into him.
His eyelids fluttered.
Then his eyes snapped open.
For a moment, confusion clouded them.
Then he saw me.
And terror swallowed everything else.
A muffled scream tore from his throat, trapped behind the tape stretched cruelly across his mouth. He jerked violently against the ropes, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as he tried to free himself.
I let out a low snort, almost amused.
"You're only hurting yourself by struggling."
He froze at the sound of my voice.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, panic turning his breathing ragged. His wide eyes locked onto mine, glaring, trembling, silently demanding answers.
Why am I here?
A faint smile curved my lips.
I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees, the knife still loose in my hand.
"You're asking why you're here?"
I tilted my head, voice soft. Almost gentle.
"Because I want you here."
I stood and took slow, deliberate steps toward him, until I was close enough to hear the uneven rhythm of his breath. Close enough to see the sweat already forming at his temple.
"Simple."
The knife slid upward, its cold edge brushing against his cheek. He flinched so hard the chair rattled beneath him.
"I want you gone," I murmured. "Forever."
A bead of sweat rolled from his forehead, tracing down the side of his face like a tear.