I pass a door and I stop, retracting my steps before unlocking the door and going down the stairs of the dimly lit underground room.

The scent of blood whiffs past my nostrils as well as the stench that comes from the moss that comes together from dripping water. 

The place that serves as my dungeon is now empty and I hate that I actually expected to see someone there. Am I going crazy with such thoughts? 

She's dead. I killed her. I killed Anne. I killed my actual mate. 

For some insane reason, I expected her to still be in that seat locked down with both arms and legs....