The sound came first.
A low, steady whirr...rubber against concrete, slow and deliberate...sliding through the corridor like a warning that death had learned patience.
Regina’s breath hitched. Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs it hurt. Joy surged ugly and sudden, sharp enough to scare her. He came. Fear followed right behind it, clawing into her spine. Because if Daniel Warren had come, it meant the room was already a graveyard that just didn’t know it yet.
The boss tilted his head, lips splitting into a crooked grin. He laughed, the sound cracked and mocking, like glass dragged across bone.
“Well, I’ll be f****d,” he drawled. “It’s the crippled Warren.”
The wheelchair rolled into view.
Daniel didn’t rush. He never rushed. He moved like the world bent to his tempo whether it
