Inside the room, Derek was chained to the wall, looking beaten up and bruised.
Multiple knife wounds mutilate his body, and from each one, blood slowly drips to the cold floor. Despite his injuries, his eyes still glare with a defiant towards his kidnapper.
Just a few feet from him, Derek saw Layla bound to a chair. Even in such dire circumstances, her beauty was unmistakable. She was athletically built, a tad shorter than him. Her chestnut-brown hair cascaded down, framing her face.
Tears glistened in her hazel eyes, brimming with terror and desperation, constantly moving, searching for any sign of rescue or a way out.
Her clothes were tattered, revealing scrapes on her skin and part of her breast. A piece of duct tape was harshly placed over her lips, muffling her cries, but the pain in her soft whimpers was noticeable.
