Page 177 of Chasing Ruin
And I don’t even want to find my way back.
??????
A cloud of rank filth slams into my face the second I step into the basement.
Boots echo behind me as my brothers follow, the door creaking shut.
At first, I can’t see a damn thing. Not even a sliver of light reaches this place—the windows are boarded up tight, sealing these animals in their own rot.
Then a bulb flickers on overhead. And I finally see them.
The monsters who somehow managed to stay alive for a week in this hell we made for them.
Hands bound. Chained above their heads.
Just like I was.
My jaw tightens.
The smell hits harder now that I can see the source. Piss. Shit. Decay. It’s so thick it burns the back of my throat. I swallow it down, refusing to react.
They blink slowly, brows furrowing against the light. To them, it must feel blinding after days in darkness.
Pity. It’ll be the last thing they ever see clearly.
Hound drifts to a corner, leaning back against the concrete like he’s settling in for a show. Ryder drags a rusted iron chair across the floor, the scrape loud, deliberate. Healer stands beside me.
I don’t move. I just stare. Watch them piece it together.
Delirium still has a grip on them. They look at me like I’m not real. So I make sure they understand.
I grab the short hose from the pipeline along the far wall and turn it on. Water blasts out.
I aim it straight at them. They choke, sputter—and then their mouths open.
Pathetic.
They start lapping at the stream like desperatethingsclawing for survival.
A low chuckle comes from Ryder behind me.
I cut the water off.
Slowly, their eyes clear. Focus sharpens and recognition hits. And with it—anger. Defeat.
I can see them struggling beneath the weight of these feelings.
Good. I want to add one more to it—fear.
I step forward, crouching in front of Scar. “Morning,” I murmur, a slow smirk pulling at my lips.
He doesn’t move much. Doesn’t fight the chains.
He knows.
“How’re you finding our service, Scar?” I tilt my head.
A guttural sound tears from his throat. Not even a proper growl—just broken noise. The water barely helped, I guess.
