A Prey For My Enemy
Kain hadn't logged out.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, opening the local directory. A single, isolated video file caught my attention.
I clicked it.
The footage was low-resolution and shaky. The setting was a concrete basement, damp and dark. In the center of the frame, tied to a heavy metal chair, was Sonya.
Kain's Sonya?
My pulse skyrocketed, a roaring sound filling my ears. Sonya. She was alive in the footage, her face bruised, her chest heaving with terrified, ragged breaths.
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