Lucia descended the creaking wooden steps into the basement the next day, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room.
The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and the lingering odor of burnt flesh.
The three men, who once held power and control over her, were now reduced to a pitiful state.
Darth, who had taken the brunt of the previous night's torture, was barely conscious.
His body sagged against the restraints, his neck red and raw from the electric shock collar she had used on him.
His muscles twitched involuntarily, a lingering effect of the electricity coursing through his veins.
He was exhausted, his eyes half-lidded, struggling to stay awake but failing miserably.
Volkan and Tynan were faring no better. Volkan's eyes darted nervously between his two friends, his face pale and gaunt.
His once-proud demeanor was shattered, replaced by a growing sense of dread that clung to him like a second skin.
