"Open the door, Prudence."
The voice was calm, too calm for the chaos that hung in the air like smoke. Vincent's tone was wrapped in restraint, every syllable heavy with urgency he refused to show. He did not pound on the wood or call her name again. Instead, he stood still, close enough to the door that he could hear the staggered breaths on the other side.
A grunt.
That was all he needed. It confirmed what he already feared, she was injured. He knew he should have tortured the men more than just breaking their limbs one by one. He should have skinned them alive with such precision they stayed alive in suffering for a long time while he made sure to rub salt on their body.
