“Or a funnel,” I added a second later.
Same difference.
The door at the end wasn’t steel like the front. It was wooden. Thick and quieter back here. I couldn’t hear all the noise I walked into. The walls were scratched to hell, like people had tried to leave and changed their minds halfway through.
Or rather, they weren’t allowed to leave.
I knocked once on the door but then opened it without waiting.
Inside was so quiet it made my ears ring. I tried to focus because the silence made me fucking itch. Even the demons were apprehensive. All the chaos from the main floor had been filtered into something tighter here.
There were rigs…actual rigs, and heavy, deep black chains bolted into beams. I could clearly see the suspension frames. It was clean lines, with deliberate setups…nothing sloppy about these.
Whoever made them made sure their ‘participants’ weren’t getting out until they were ready. Whoever ran this place before, they curated their puppets to their own mastery.
“Jesus,” I breathed, stepping in slowly. “I thought I was fucked up. Is this blood?”
The hanging chains were dripping, but it was so dark it was a wonder what the liquid was. With so much metal around, the smell of iron was strong anyway.
“You’re late.”
Hellll no. I don’t do surprises.
A small little dude stared at me from a darker corner, and I turned my head just enough to find him without fully giving him my attention—short stocky still bro.
“So I’ve been told,” I said. “I’m working on being fashionably disappointing instead.” He didn’t smile at me.
Righhhht. Another tough crowd. I was killing it tonight—zero to two Jude’s.
“You in charge here?”
“Allegedly.”
His eyes dragged over me like he was checking for seams to unravel. But whatever he saw in my half-assed appearance didn’t give me away.
“Who sent you. Name?”
I scratched the back of my neck, thinking about it like it was a real question. “Honestly? Vibes, ya know?”
Silence.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting,” I said, finally looking at him fully. “You want the job done, or you want my autobiography?”
Something flickered there in his dark gaze. Irritation? Definitely. Curiosity? Maybe. Hard to tell with people who had empty souls.
“I don’t recognize you.”
“Yeah,” I said lightly. “I get that a lot from people who don’t know me.”
His jaw tightened just a fraction.
Good. There it is.
Human.
Behind him, a movement caught my eye. It was another mark on the wall, but way bigger this time. It wasn’t just carved. This one was not a subtle reminder. It was a reinforced statement painted over half the damn wall.
