Chapter 29 - The Cell Door Opens
The heavy iron door swung inward with a screech of ungreased hinges. The cell was small, damp, and lit by a single, bare bulb hanging from a frayed cord. In the far corner, huddled on a narrow cot with her knees pulled up to her chest, sat Victoria.
Her once-expensive designer dress was torn and stained with dirt and dried blood. Her perfectly styled blonde hair was matted, tangled around her face like the willow branches over a swamp. But it was her eyes that made my blood run cold—wide, bloodshot, and burning with a manic, unhinged insanity.
When she saw us standing in the doorway, a twisted, horrible grin spread across her pale lips.
"Well, well, look who decided to grace my humble quarters," Victoria laughed, her voice raspy, echoing off the concrete walls. "The little maid and her lapdog king. Did you get lonely upstairs, Elena? Did you miss me cutting off your little peasant trophies?"
I took a step forward, my hands clenching into fists at my sides, but Adrian held out an arm, stopping me. He stepped past me into the cell, his boots echoing loudly on the stone floor. He towered over her, casting a massive, suffocating shadow across her frail frame.
"You’re done, Victoria," Adrian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Your father's influence is gone. Your accounts are frozen. And the council wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. Tell me who gave you the security override codes, and maybe—*maybe*—I’ll let you spend the rest of your miserable life in a prison that has a window."
Victoria slowly stood up from the cot, swaying slightly on her feet. She didn't look afraid; she looked triumphant. She tilted her head back and let out a shrill, piercing laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"You think *I* needed help from someone else?" she hissed, stepping right up until she was inches away from Adrian’s chest, staring defiantly up into his cold eyes. "You think some spy had to sneak me the codes?"
Adrian narrowed his eyes. "Explain."
Victoria smiled, a sickening, bloody smile, and reached into the pocket of her torn dress, pulling out a small, metallic flash drive that she held up between her thumb and forefinger.
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"I didn't steal the codes, Adrian," she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial, mocking tone that sent a sudden, paralyzing shockwave straight through my heart. "They were given to me voluntarily... by the person sitting right behind you."
My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, mechanically, I turned my head away from the cell and looked out into the dimly lit corridor of the holding block, where the heavy iron security door at the end of the hall was beginning to slowly, silently swing shut—and the heavy steel deadbolt slid home with a loud, final *clack* from the outside.
