The men didn't speak. They moved without hesitation, their hands reaching for the shackles on her wrists and pulling her roughly from the floor. Evelyn struggled against them, but her limbs were weak, her body worn from days in the cold, and she was too exhausted to put up much of a fight.
They dragged her across the cold stone, her feet stumbling beneath her, her breath coming in ragged gasps as they forced her to kneel in the center of the vault. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows that danced on the walls, giving the room an eerie, oppressive feel. Nathaniel's presence loomed like a dark cloud, his power suffocating.
"You still think you're above this," he murmured as he stepped closer. His fingers lightly brushed against her cheek again, and she recoiled, the warmth of his touch unsettling in the silence. "But I'm not the one who will break you, Eleanor. You will break yourself."
