49. Grainne — Trap

Grainne

Tyler shielded his face from the abrupt rays of light that emerged into the dark corner that I had locked him up in for a goddess knows how long. He struggled with the chains. The wolves dragged him out of the shit hole, down to the hallway, three turns to the left and one to the right. We arrived at the torture chamber and they pushed him to the cold, hard floor.

Falkor was standing in front of the fire, watching over the poker heated by the hot flames.

The hounds lifted him effortlessly from the floor, bound him to the chains strapped to the ceiling. His feet were about six inches above the ground, with his head bowed.

“Grainne, what are you doing?” he shook his head in denial. “Look at me!” he growled. I arched my brows, completely taken aback by this whole new morale that he had suddenly developed even though he was in captivity. I folded my arms across my chest and rolled my eyes as I stepped toward him slowly.

“Don’t worry, Tyler. This is just the beginning.”

“You a