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“Why are we being kept here, Stephen?” I asked, my voice steady.
“Hard to build a basement in the Everglades,” he said.
“No, I mean why. Why are we here? What does my father want with us?”
Stephen’s smirk faded slightly, his gaze intensifying. “The Viper has his reasons. You should know, he’s not one to share his plans needlessly.”
“And you agree with them.”
Stephen’s brow furrowed. “That seems immaterial,” he said. "If I were you, I would just be grateful I’m letting you out of your cells at all.”
Victor scoffed. “We broke out.”
“Yeah, and you came here,” Stephen said, grinning. “You’re not exactly free, are you?”
"No, but we're not exactly helpless either," Victor shot back, his jaw set in a defiant line. I bit back a smile. That's my Victor, always the brave one.
Stephen chuckled again, his eyes glinting with some quiet amusement. "Let’s test that theory,” he said. “Look, as much as I’m loving social hour, it’s getting late and I have a lot of things to do. Let me walk you back to your cells and I’ll get you some food.”
Victor and I exchanged a glance. His gaze was hard and unyielding, but I saw it flicker briefly, a silent indication that we should go with Stephen's flow. For now.
"Lead the way," I said, making sure to keep the resignation out of my voice.
Stephen simply nodded, striding toward the door at the end of the hall. Victor and I fell into step behind him, our boots echoing loudly in the quiet dungeon. The walk was grimly quiet.
“I’ll keep your cells unlocked so you can go to the bathroom,” Stephen said. “I’m not a monster.”
"Looking more like an angel every minute," Victor murmured, sarcasm dripping thickly from each word. Stephen merely laughed, a low sound that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway.
We walked on in silence, the cold concrete under my bare feet sending shivers up my spine. The chill of the dungeon seeped into my skin and settled into my bones, wrapping around me like an unwanted blanket.
“But don’t tell him,” Stephen said suddenly. “Seriously. If you tell him, I’ll have to hurt you.”
“You mean the Viper?” I asked. “Yeah, we’re not on speaking terms.”
Stephen nodded. “Makes sense,” he said as we continued to walk deeper into the bunker.
The hallway stretched on, seeming to never end. The humming fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on the concrete walls, the flickering of their dying life adding to the eeriness. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept calm. I needed to be steady, for both Victor and myself.
Stephen eventually led us to a door identical to the others we had passed. He stopped and pulled out a set of keys. “I assume you made a mess of the other cells?”
Victor and I looked at each other. “We needed to get out.”
Stephen sighed. “Fine. You can share this one,” he said. “Home sweet home.”
He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let us pass. The room was small and stark, much like our previous cells, but it felt slightly warmer. Maybe because it was farther from the entrance of the dungeon or maybe because I wasn't alone, but regardless, it felt more bearable.
I moved in first, Victor following me closely behind. His hand brushed against mine, our fingers brushing for a moment before he pulled away. I felt his absence immediately, and a pang of longing hit me.
We took in our surroundings - a single bed, a tiny window set high into the wall that let in just a sliver of light, and a small toilet in one corner. Pretty much what I expected.
Stephen stood by the door watching us with an unreadable expression. He seemed to be wrestling with some deep thoughts, his gaze fixed on me with a level of intensity that made me uncomfortable.
“The bathroom’s down the hall,” he said, his voice echoing against the cold stone walls. “First door on your right.”
"Thanks," I replied, my voice flat and emotionless. Stephen just nodded before turning on his heel and leaving, the door clicking shut behind him.
Victor and I stood in silence for a moment, letting the reality of our situation sink in. The cell was cramped and cold, devoid of any comfort. It felt eerie and unnatural, like a crypt rather than a room. The remnants of those who had been imprisoned here before us lingered like ghosts.
