Lynch walked into the cold, damp dungeon, his gaze immediately locking onto the corner. There, a figure was curled up beneath the cold stone wall, heavy chains wrapped around their body, with arms and legs bent at unnatural angles, obviously broken.
A large hood completely covered her head and face, making her look utterly miserable, her breath so faint it seemed as if it might dissipate at any moment.
Lynch took a deep breath, suppressing the emotions surging in his heart, and slowly walked over, crouching down. He reached out, his fingertips gently lifting the hood stained with grime and congealed blood.
The hood fell away, revealing a face both young and incredibly pale. Around twenty or so, her flaxen hair was matted with dried blood, obscuring part of her features. This was a completely unfamiliar face.
It isn't her...
