Chapter 72: interrogation

~ Reagan's POV~

Reagan reluctantly descended the long flight of stairs that led to the grim holding cells beneath the Sanctuary. The pungent odor of death permeated the air, assaulting his senses as he made his way down.

It was a place he despised, a place where despair and desperation seemed to manifest themselves in tangible form. But duty called, and Reagan knew that if he wanted to find Arin, this was the place to start.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Reagan surveyed the dimly lit hallway. The flickering fluorescent lights did little to alleviate the eerie ambiance that clung to the concrete walls.

He spotted Arin standing resolutely in front of the holding cell at the far end of the fifth corridor, his arms folded across his chest, his expression grave and imposing. Reagan approached cautiously, matching Arin's serious demeanor.

"Hey, you..." Reagan greeted, his voice tinged with both weariness and concern.

"Hey," Arin replied tersely, his eyes never leaving the scene