My lips were bruised, swollen, and cracked, the sting of each breath reminding me of the beating I'd just endured. Those bastards had slammed me into the metal bars like I was some goddamn pinball, laughing it off as a mistake. I wasn't having it. I swung at the perpetrator, landed a clean punch to his jaw, but before I could follow up, his whole gang descended on me like vultures. Fists, boots, elbows—I felt them all. By the time they were done, I was curled up on the cold concrete, ribs screaming in agony.
I blamed Lila for this.
And the second I got out of this hellhole, I'd find her. This time, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd kill her for real.
"You have a visitor," a female officer announced, her voice clipped, indifferent.