Chains pinned his arms behind his back. I struggled against my own, but the manacles didn’t budge.
Then I heard it.
A groan.
Not mine. Not Luca’s.
Across the room, someone shifted. The chains clinked. My vision sharpened. And I saw her.
Mrs. Thompson.
Barely recognizable.
Her once neatly-coiffed silver hair was soaked with blood and sweat, hanging in limp tangles around her face.
One of her eyes was swollen shut. Cuts marred her cheeks and neck, raw and angry.
Her dress, the same conservative navy she always wore at The Haven was torn and stained. But her spine? Still straight.
"Caitlyn," she croaked, her voice like broken glass.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t know... they were watching."
I choked on air.
“Mrs. Thompson?”
Her eye....what was left of it....met mine.
“I thought I’d h
