Chapter 2 - The Deepest Dark
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The holding cell was a sensory deprivation chamber designed to break the human mind.
There were no windows. There was no bed. The floor was poured concrete, freezing cold and slick with dampness. The heavy iron door sealed with a final, echoing thud that resonated in Seraphina’s bones.
For the first few hours, she paced. She mapped the dimensions of her cage by trailing her fingertips along the rough, unpainted walls. Five paces across. Seven paces long. She counted the seconds, trying to keep track of time, but the absolute, crushing blackness quickly began to warp her perception.
She thought about her mother’s failing heart. She thought about her sister’s nursing tuition, which was due in exactly two weeks. If she disappeared, her family would drown in debt within a month.
“He won’t kill you,” Seraphina whispered to herself, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat in the corner. “If he wanted you dead, he would have shot you in the basement. He needs information.”
But she had no information to give.
She was exactly what her file said she was. A desperate immigrant trying to survive in a world of billionaires and monsters.
Sometime during the second day—or what she assumed was the second day—the small slot at the bottom of the door slid open. A plastic bottle of water rolled across the concrete.
Seraphina scrambled toward it, her hands shaking as she unscrewed the cap and drank deeply. The water tasted like metallic rust, but it was salvation.
“Please,” she croaked toward the closed slot. “Tell Leo I didn't mean to leave him.”
There was no answer. The slot snapped shut.
By the third day, the cold had seeped deeply into her joints. She was shivering uncontrollably, her faded denim dress offering no protection against the freezing dampness of the subterranean cell. Hallucinations began to dance at the edges of her vision—flashes of color in the dark, the sound of her mother’s voice calling her name.
She forced herself to stand up. She refused to let the darkness take her mind. She began to do jumping jacks, trying to generate body heat.
“One, two, three, four,” she counted aloud, her voice cracking in the dry air.
Suddenly, the heavy deadbolts on the iron door began to clank loudly. The sound was deafening after seventy-two hours of absolute silence.
The door swung open, blinding her with the harsh, artificial light of the hallway.
Seraphina threw her hands up over her eyes, crying out in pain as the light burned her retinas. Two large guards stepped into the cell. They grabbed her roughly by the arms, dragging her to her feet.
“Walk,” one of them grunted.
She stumbled forward, her legs weak from hunger and cold. As one of the guards yanked her forward to keep her from falling, his heavy grip caught the collar of her faded denim dress. The cheap, worn fabric gave way with a loud, tearing sound, ripping from her neckline down over her left shoulder.
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The freezing air hit her bare skin. She gasped, trying to pull the torn fabric up to cover herself, but her hands were bound behind her back.
“Keep moving,” the guard sneered, dragging her down the corridor toward the interrogation room.
