Leo's POV
Time has become meaningless in this concrete tomb.
The cell I designed for the most vicious rogues who dared cross into my territory now serves as my prison. The bitter irony would be amusing if I possessed even an ounce of strength left to appreciate it. But Elder Lewis has systematically stripped away every fragment of power I once commanded.
Wolfsbane saturates the air like poison fog, clinging to my clothes and skin, coating the inside of my throat with its acrid burn. Each breath feels like swallowing molten metal. My heart pounds against ribs that feel brittle as old bones, each beat sending shockwaves of agony through my chest.
The injections come daily now, delivered through my meals when they bother feeding me at all. No more interrogations. Perhaps they believe isolation and pain will accomplish what their questions could not.
They are not wrong.
Yet my breaking point has nothing to do with physical torment. It is her face that haunts me most cruelly.
