The cold cell wall pressed against my back as I sat in darkness, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Three days had passed since Lucas Dillon had locked me in this hellhole. My only company was the occasional rat scurrying across the floor and the distant screams of other prisoners.
"Isabelle," I whispered her name like a prayer. "I'll get back to you. I swear it."
The sound of approaching footsteps broke my reverie. Keys jangled outside my cell door before it swung open, flooding the small space with harsh light.
"Up, Knight," barked a guard I didn't recognize. "You've got visitors."
Visitors? Hope and suspicion warred in my chest as I was roughly yanked to my feet and shackled. Who would be allowed to see me in this secret prison?
The guard marched me down a long corridor lined with identical metal doors. Each one, I knew, held someone like me—someone who had crossed the wrong people.
