The cell smelled of damp concrete and rust. A single bulb flickered above, casting the walls in sickly yellow light that made shadows crawl like living things. Alicia sat with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, as if she could somehow fold herself small enough to disappear. Beside her, Sofia shivered even though the air wasn't cold, her bare feet pressed against the freezing floor. The only sound was the faint drip of water somewhere in the dark, an irregular reminder that time here didn't pass the way it did outside.
Neither of them spoke. They had learned quickly that words were useless here. The men guarding the corridor didn't answer questions, they didn't even look at the sisters unless it was to throw in a crust of stale bread or yank them to their feet when it was time to be moved.
Alicia's mind replayed that night like a broken reel. The roar of engines outside their home. The heavy boots on the marble floors. The way her father's voice once a shield that had made her feel untouchable cracked when they dragged him out in front of them.
She squeezed her eyes shut but the images pushed through anyway: Adrian's dark silhouette in the doorway, the gleam of the knife in his hand, the way the light caught on the wet streaks down their father's face. His voice had been deep, almost calm, when he questioned him, each word dripping with a venom that seemed to seep into the walls. Their father had denied everything, but every denial was met with a blow, the crack of fist against bone, the sharp gasp of pain.
Alicia had screamed until her throat burned, calling his name over and over. Sofia had tried to run to him, only to be yanked back by one of the guards, her thin wrists bruising under the iron grip. They were forced to watch. Forced to see his body fold under each strike, his blood pooling on the floor, staining the polished wood they used to dance on during winter nights.
When her father's eyes met hers, they weren't full of the authority she knew. They were pleading. His mouth formed the words I'm sorry, though his voice was too weak to carry them.
Alicia's chest had felt like it was being torn in two. Sofia's cries were louder, raw, almost animal. She kicked and thrashed in the guard's grip until her legs gave out, still screaming for him. Adrian didn't stop them from screaming, he made them stay there, made them see every second of it.
She remembered the moment Adrian's gaze shifted to them. It wasn't the look of a man seeing two frightened girls, it was the look of a predator marking prey. His eyes were pale gray, cold and merciless, like the sky before a snowstorm. He had tilted his head slightly, as though curious about how much they could take before breaking.
That curiosity hadn't faded.
Here, in this place that stank of fear, they could feel him even when they didn't see him. His footsteps in the corridor were slow, deliberate. He didn't rush, he didn't need to. Each step was a reminder that he was in control, that their lives were his to toy with. Sometimes he walked past their cell without looking in. Other times he stopped, leaning against the bars with that unreadable expression, letting the silence stretch until it became unbearable.
The first night here had been the worst. The guards had thrown them inside without a word, the door slamming like the crack of a gunshot. There had been no light then, only blackness so complete that Alessia had to touch the damp wall just to know she was still in the same space as her sister. Somewhere down the hall, a man groaned in pain. Then another sound, soft at first, then sharper, a muffled cry that was cut off abruptly.
Sofia had pressed herself against her, trembling. Alicia had whispered promises she didn't believe, that their father would find them, that this wouldn't last. But the scrape of footsteps outside the cell made those words feel like lies. When the small metal slot in the door slid open and a pair of pale gray eyes looked in, the world shrank to nothing but that gaze. He hadn't said a word that night. He just looked at them, long enough for Alicia's stomach to turn, before the slot slammed shut.
Food came once a day, sometimes less. Water was rationed to a single dented cup between them. Hunger had carved hollows into their cheeks and sharpened their bones. Sofia's lips were split, her voice rasping when she spoke, but she still tried to comfort her sister in whispers at night.
I'll find a way, Sofia murmured now, though her eyes betrayed the lie.
Alicia didn't answer. She had stopped believing in rescue the moment she saw the way Adrian had looked at their father not with rage, but with a calm certainty that this was justice. That conviction scared her more than the violence itself.
The sound of a lock turning froze them both. Sofia's hand clamped around Alicia's arm. They didn't move as the heavy door swung inward and Adrian stepped inside.
He didn't speak. His gaze swept over them, lingering for a moment on Sofia, then shifting to Alicia. The air seemed to thin in his presence. He wore black from head to toe, his movements unhurried, the click of his boots on the floor echoing in the silence.
He stopped in front of them and crouched, resting his forearms on his knees. Alicia forced herself to meet his eyes, though her heartbeat thundered in her ears. He studied her face as though searching for cracks. Then, without a word, he set a small plate on the ground, a single piece of bread, torn in half.
Neither of them moved.
Eat, he said finally, his voice low, almost bored.
Sofia hesitated, but Alicia reached for the bread, tearing it again so her sister would have more. Adrian's gaze followed every movement, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, though it was impossible to tell whether it was amusement or disdain.
When they finished, he stood.
Tomorrow, he said, pausing at the door, we talk about your father.
The lock clicked behind him, and his footsteps faded.
Sofia let out a shaky breath, burying her face in her hands. Alicia stared at the closed door, her stomach tight not from hunger this time, but from the knowledge that whatever "tomorrow" meant, it would not bring relief.
In the darkness, she could still hear her father's voice, hoarse and desperate, calling their names. And underneath it, she could hear Adrian's calm, cold, promising that the worst was yet to come.