Chapter 69. Trapped

**S:**

The room is dark.

Not just dim—dark.

The kind of dark that makes the air feel thicker. The kind that steals sound. Still, the glowing red dot on the wall camera pulses like a heartbeat. Unblinking. Silent. Watching.

The one Kieran installed five minutes ago.

We’re back at the villa.

The interrogation room.

Cold steel everywhere. The stench of fear and sweat baked into the walls. The chair Samuel is slouched in is metal, bolted to the floor like it’s afraid he’ll fly away. There’s duct tape on the table. Just in case. The lights are off except for one swinging bulb—flickering slightly—casting harsh, uneven shadows over Samuel’s battered face.

He’s tied.

Hands cuffed to the table. Ankles bound. His skin still purple and green from the last time he tried to run. Still bruised. Still recovering.

But alert.

I sit opposite him. Calm. Still.

Kieran stands behind him. Arms crossed. Silent tower of muscle and mena