Giordano let out a groan as his eyes fluttered open. His surroundings didn’t look like the expensive lounge of the Aces and Ales bar, nor did they resemble the glaring red of the high-security EMP vault. Instead, the room was stripped bare, cast in a suffocating, low-voltage darkness that smelled heavily of rust, damp concrete, and stagnant water. It was a glorified dungeon, and he was the center attraction. "Finally," Victoria’s taunting voice rang out from the shadows, dripping with a cold, dangerous amusement. "I was starting to think you were going to remain unconscious forever, Salvatore. And I really hate wasting a good interrogation on a sleeping man. It completely ruins the vibe." Giordano twitched his left eye, a sharp, blinding throb radiating straight from the back of his skull down to his jaw. He tried to shift his weight, but the unforgiving bite of leather bindings anchored his wrists securely behind a rusted industrial chair. His shirt was missing, the freezi
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