CHAPTER 106

Pain.

That was all Wilson could process.

His hand was useless, his fingers were twitching at odd angles. His wrist was swollen, the skin stretched taut and red. Every small movement sent sharp, nauseating pain shooting through his arm.

Two guards dragged him through a long hallway, his feet stumbling over the marble floor. The house was even better up close—tall arched ceilings, thick rugs embroidered with rare designs, swords and artifacts were displayed like trophies.

Wilson gritted his teeth, forcing his focus away from the agony.

He had to think. He had to get out.

The guards didn’t say a word as they shoved him into a...