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TWENTY ONE
KANE’s POV
The basement is dark and dingy with only a lone lightbulb hanging from the slabs above. It swings like a pendulum, casting moving shadows all around. There is no window to air this stale and murky room. All the better. This is not a resort, this is a dungeon for my VIPs. And today, I have a very important guest who hangs by the shackles of the brick walls.
“Let me go!” a young man screams as he tugs desperately against the chains that bind him. Veins pop out on his neck and sweat glistens on his body as he struggles to catch his breath in this suffocating room.
“Please, Lord Kane. I am only here for the trial. Nothing more. I’m no mole. Please, let me go…”
His shifty eyes fall on Tore who stands next to an iron stove, heating an imprinted iron bar on heated coals of braziers. A letter ‘K’ is fashioned at the end of the bar and it glows in a variety of warm shades, from dark red to bright white.
The young man
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