First message
Cold.
That was the only sensation to break through the thickening barrier of numbness that encompassed your psyche. Cutting off the warmth in your veins and hardening the set of your eyes as two unfamiliar men ushered you forward, setting a pace far faster than your naturally graceful gait. Snow, hard and compact after days of frigid temperatures, crunched fractional beneath every step. The sharp shards of ice too hard to crush beneath your weight, cut into your delicate flesh. All you could feel was the tell tale burn of the cold with every step.
The warmth that greets you as you enter the mansion was nearly overwhelming. Chest heaving, sweat beading instantly at your brow as your eyes dart around, taking in every macabre detail of the estate owned by the very family who built this city with blood money. A throat clears and your head whips in it’s direction. A slender middle aged woman stands in front of a large ornate door, jerking her head as an indication to follow her.
Entering the large room you’re caught off guard by the very domestic seen ahead of you. The woman taking her her place at one end of the table, a large man at across from her at the other end. Two girls seated together with their backs to you. And one empty chair across the table.
You take the empty seat as expected, heart pounding and a cry echoing from you when you see a half naked man muzzled and chained to the floor below the table. A feral growl escaping him as he lunges forward.