Chapter Twenty-Six: Diana

Two hundred and seventy-three . . . two hundred and seventy-four . . . two hundred and seventy-five . . . two hundred and seventy-six.

276 days. That’s how long Luciana was in this cell. Every day she scratched another line on the wall.

I thought it was a stupid and dramatic thing to do, but after a couple of weeks I realized it’s probably the only thing that can keep you sane when you’re sitting in a stone room in total isolation.

I can’t believe how sadistic these assholes are. They put me in her old cell. It hasn’t even been cleaned. There’s blood smeared on the door and a sticky puddle in the corner.

I feel bile rise in my throat when I realize the blood either belonged to Luciana, or they’ve succumbed other people to this torture. I suppose it had to be the latter. It's too damn fresh.

My jaw clenches at the sound of the door hinges creaking. The guard angel stalks inside the cell, his painted blue wings held stiff and proud like the good little soldier he is.

He takes the