Dread curled in my stomach as he released me, yanking me forward again to continue marching towards whatever fate I’d have to endure. The thought of solitary confinement washed over me like a cold wave- memories of being crammed in a cell I could barely move in, darker than night no matter what hour of the day. Torture, screams in the distance, enough time doing nothing to drive a man insane… It had been often enough I wished I’d lose my mind just to imagine some other form of reality. 

Just as I was preparing myself to be locked away for a week or month or however long it would be this time, the guards turned me down a different hall that I had only been to once before… The ‘Visitor’s Center’. 

I sucked in a hiss of breath through my gritted teeth. In Purgatory, getting a visitor was never a good thing- people didn’t survive long afterwards. It wasn’t uncommon for factions to pull prisoners for information- torture them…or worse. I had never been part of a faction, but as Rackett had so gleefully pointed out, that wasn’t always a good thing when it came to protection. 

The guards marched me through narrow halls, and I tried not to look at the rooms we passed- concrete cells with bloodstained iron chairs and tables, walls lined with implements meant to inflict pain. There was a pit in my stomach as they stopped in front of a closed door, the lock clicking open as a guard accessed the keypad set into the wall. Fingers bit into my shoulder as they kept me from attempting an escape, and then the guard shoved me into the small room.

A small metal table with iron chairs was the only thing in the room, bolted to the floor. The bare concrete walls gave me a faint sense of relief before my gaze focused on the person waiting at the table- a visitor whose face I had never seen before. Though his clothes were understated, his tailored trousers and tight leather riding jacket appeared high quality. Scruffy black hair surrounded fine features as he looked up at me, brilliant green eyes taking me in slowly before he gestured to the chair across the table from him.

The guard dragged me forward, forcing me into the seat. The visitor raised his slender hand, his voice softly commanding, “No need for that,” as the guard moved to chain my iron restraint to the chair. His gaze turned to steel as the guard hesitated, gesturing to the door. “I can handle him. Leave.” Though it surprised me, the guard backed away, leaving the room silently with the door giving a heavy click as it locked shut behind him. 

I raised a thick brow, wondering what made this boy think that his slight frame would be any match for my muscular one. Though my nerves were still unsettled, my mind filled with unease and tension, I found myself asking gruffly, “Who are you? What do you want with me?” 

He regarded me cooly for a moment before his gaze flicked to the cameras. Pressed against the table, a soft green glow emanated from the fingertips of the leather gloves that covered his slender fingers. Following his eyes, I saw the lights of the cameras blink out. Shocked, I looked back at the visitor to see a faint smirk curve his lips for a moment before he answered my questions. “My name is Destry. I’m here on behalf of the leader of Synchro… He’d like to offer you a deal.”