Nathan
I lay on my threadbare cot, counting the cracks in the ceiling for what felt like the millionth time.
I had no idea how long I'd been here, I stopped keeping count after two years. The dungeon air hung thick with the stench of mould and decay…this place usually was meant to hold offenders like rogue wolves but Ramsey after seeing I wouldn't talk in the holding cells, had commanded they bring me here.
The pungent smell of sweat and blood is enough to make anyone give in but I held my ground. The thought of Lyla, staying safe from her vile mate kept me going. I'd die a thousand times before I give him the tiniest information about her.
I shifted in my bed, groaning softly as my muscles ached from the cold. My skin where the iron cuffs held, was beginning to burn again but I had long since stopped noticing the discomfort. After years in these grim conditions – not being able to tell day and night apart, I had gotten used to the endless hours of silence and waiting.
