49

Naomi’s Pov;

They woke me before dawn. The sound of the chains rattling had become familiar, but the rough hands that gripped my arms felt colder than usual, businesslike. Two guards dragged me from the cot, one on each side, their grips bruising through my skin.

The hallway was narrow, with concrete walls sweating with damp. I stumbled once when my ankle chain caught, but the guard yanked me upright without slowing.

I tried to count my steps, tried to memorize turns, but everything felt endless, repeating, left, right, another corridor, another flicker. The kind of place built to confuse people like me.

Finally, they pushed me into a wider room. It was almost domestic compared to the cell: a long table, two chairs facing each other, a lamp burning with steady yellow light. The walls were bare, but a rug softened the floor, and the air carried the faint smell of cigar smoke.

Reyes sat at the head of the table, waiting like a host at dinner. His pale eyes glinted when he saw me.