Chapter 241

Eugene woke up to the cold bite of stone against his back and the shitty damp air filling his nose. His brain felt scrambled, like someone had taken a crowbar to his thoughts and pried them loose. He blinked—once, twice—and stared up at a ceiling that looked like it had been carved by someone with more muscle than skill.

Uneven slabs of rock came out above him as their cracks were stuffed with something dark and unidentifiable, probably meant to keep the rain out. It wasn't working.

A slow drip was heard somewhere in the room, steady as a metronome, landing on what sounded like a metal bucket.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He sat up—or tried to as pain shot through his ribs, like he'd been in a bar fight with someone who didn't know when to quit...which, knowing himself, was highly probable.

The room around him came into focus: four walls of rough stone, no windows, one heavy wooden door with iron reinforcements that screamed "medieval chic."