ELLIOT

"Mercy, please! Mr. Vittorio… it’s… it’s the Duke! PLEASE, HAVE MERCY, YOUR GRACE!"

One of the prisoners started screaming desperately as we passed, his voice carrying through the small iron-barred window on the heavy steel door.

His cries triggered a chain reaction—a chorus of pleading voices. And yet, down here, there were barely ten prisoners left waiting for death.

"SHUT UP, YOU DAMN DOGS, OR I’LL KILL YOU ALL RIGHT NOW!" Vittorio bellowed, enraged.

The sound of muffled sobs filled the air. I simply kept walking toward the door at the end of the corridor. The snap of a whip greeted me the moment Vittorio unlocked and pushed open the door.

I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting instantly to the dim candlelight flickering against the stone walls.

Strapped to a wooden X-shaped frame was the man who had once been my most trusted aide. His head hung low, his clothes reduced to shreds, barely clinging to his battered body. Open wounds bled freely across his skin.

I hadn’t even seen