Chapter 235

The factory smelled of rust, dust, and the faint metallic tang of old blood.

Declan Hayes stood frozen at the top of the stairs, gun steady in his good hand, the wound in his shoulder screaming with every heartbeat. Moonlight sliced through the broken skylights above, casting long, jagged shadows across the wide-open floor. In the center of it all, chained to a metal chair bolted to the concrete,