POV: Emilia
The chair's hard steel reminds me sharply of the world I am imprisoned in. Every floor creak makes my heart beat; the room is darkly lighted, shadows dance on the walls. One thing is certain: I am at their mercy; I do not know where I am or what they want of me. I am alone. And Enzo is bleeding someplace right here.
My breath freezes as the same silver-haired man from before walks in, his presence commanding the room. The door creaks open. Every stride deliberate, he glides with a predatory elegance. His eyes meet me, icy and detached, and a nasty smirk pulls at his mouth.
As I'm0 we were old acquaintances getting together for tea, he says, "Comfortable?"
"Get to the point," I say, defying my anxiety. " WHY am I here?"
