CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN – TAUNTING THE OPPONENTS

It was a video file, the thumbnail a grainy, distorted image that sent tendrils of dread coiling through her soul. With trembling fingers, she tapped the play button, bracing herself for the horrors that awaited her. The footage was dim and grainy, the flickering light casting eerie shadows across the bare concrete walls of what appeared to be a basement or cellar. In the center of the frame, bound and gagged, was Patrick, his eyes wide with terror and desperation. Charlotte felt her breath catch in her throat, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the choked sob that threatened to escape. Patrick looked battered and bruised, his clothes torn and stained with what she could only hope was not his own blood. A shadow moved in the periphery, resolving itself into the towering form of Friedrich von Becker, his features twisted into a sadistic sneer. "Greetings, Charlotte, Julian," he drawled, his voice a grating rasp that sent shivers down her spine. "I trust you're enjoying the show."