Bad Feeling
“Where’s my brother?” Regulus asked one of the guards as soon as he reached the gate of the mansion.
The guard bowed to the guest in panic and stuttered, “I d-don’t think anyone has moved him from t-the place where he was l-l-l-last found.”
“And where might that be?” Regulus’ voice sounded as calm as the sea even when he looked like he was in a hurry to see the dead body of his brother.
The guard kept on bowing his head when he answered, “In the dungeon, Milord.”
Regulus instantly headed towards the dungeon at a speed that was faster than the wind. He briefly paused when he reached the broken-down door of the dungeon. He narrowed his eyes at the damaged steel door and then ran down the stairs.
A man in his late fifties immediately stood in front of Regulus and gave a low bow. “We were waiting for your arrival, Milord,” his voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was taking a great deal of effort for him to control himself from breaking down right then.