"Gentlemen," Heena said, her voice echoing off stone walls heavy with the scent of jasmine and suffering. "We need to have a conversation."
She gestured, and the shadow guards began removing gags one by one.
Kieran's came out first. "Go to hell," he rasped immediately, his voice raw from three days of muffled screaming.
"I've been there. It's overrated." Heena walked closer, hands clasped behind her back. "Here's your situation: in three hours, I have to face a council full of nobles demanding to see you. To confirm you're safe and willing participants in this 'spiritual retreat.'"
"We'll tell them everything," Adrian managed, his voice a broken whisper. "Every torture, every—"
"No, you won't." Heena's smile was sharp. "You'll walk into that council chamber looking healthy and composed. You'll confirm every word of my story. You'll assure everyone you chose this path voluntarily."
"Why the fuck would we do that?" Lucian snarled.
