Liora VossI woke to the constant sound of dripping water. Ploc. Ploc. Ploc. A slow, relentless rhythm echoing off the damp concrete walls, marking time like a macabre clock. The heavy smell of mold and wet earth filled my nostrils, mixed with something metallic I preferred not to identify. The darkness was almost complete, broken only by a weak, yellowish bulb swinging from the ceiling, casting long, distorted shadows.I tried to move, but my hands were tied above my head, bound with rough ropes to a rusty pipe. The skin on my wrists burned with every breath. My shoulders throbbed. The cold, damp floor stuck to the soles of my bare feet. I was dirty, exhausted, and completely powerless.A pit of despair.I didn’t know how many hours—or days—had passed since the alley. The last clear image in my mind was the Capo staring at me as the sweet-smelling cloth was pressed over my face. After that… nothing.I pulled on the restraints again, but the rope only bit deeper into my skin. A low gr
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