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Chapter 98: The Puppet and His Maker
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Chapter 100: The Day We Lost Our Freedom
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... demon?
He wasn’t just messing around. Every tool on the table had been arranged with purpose—clean, polished, and waiting. A hammer. Pliers. Some weird curved hook that looked like it came out of a butcher’s nightmare. It didn’t feel like a torture chamber so much as... a workshop. A place someone enjoyed spending time in.
Was this hell’s version of a DIY club?
My heart pounded in my chest, loud enough that I swore he could hear it. The air was cold and damp, clinging to ...
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