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CHAPTER 29

  A single lightbulb lit the long hallway. On the other end of the narrow corridor was Vaughan's cell. My heart twisted when I saw him, and for a moment I just stood there staring at him.

  He was sat on a large, throne-like stone chair, with heavy manacles connected to his wrists, and iron fetters to his legs, his black hair plastered with sweat allover his chiseled face.

  Seated there, on the throne-like chair with tortured eyes, he looked just like the painting back in my room.

  A thought occurred to me. "Do you...do you paint?"

  Thrown off guard by the question, he momentarily lost the freezing look he'd trained on me. "Why do you ask that?"

  I stilled the urge to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Because there are these, er, paintings that are in my room and... and last week it was one of this sick little b..." I trailed off, feeling ridiculous. I went back to the matter at hand. "I want to know where William and Nayla are."