Chapter 7: The Unmarked Basement

👉 Previous decision: You chose to patch the hole in the wall and hide.

Julian Cross’s smile was as thin and sharp as a razor. He lowered the flashlight, the beam illuminating only his mouth.

“Patching the compliance hole,” he whispered, his voice dangerously soft. “That’s an automatic breach of the indemnity contract, Mr. Kaczmarek.”

My blood ran cold. Compliance hole?

Before I could even process the words, two massive figures stepped out from the hallway shadows, flanking Julian.

They were hulking men in dark, ill-fitting suits, their faces grim and unmoving. One moved with surprising speed, a chemical-soaked rag pressed against my mouth before I could even draw breath to scream.

The world dissolved into a sickening rush of dizziness and the cloying smell of ether. My body went limp.

I woke up weeks later. My head throbbed, and my vision swam in and out of focus.

I was lying on an iron cot in a small, windowless subterranean room. The air was stale, smelling faintly of damp earth and old incense.

My wrists and ankles were bound with heavy leather straps. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a sickly yellow glow on the freshly painted drywall near my head.

Pinned to my chest with a rusty nail was a brand-new lease agreement. A single figure: $300.00 a month.

And then, just as the last vestiges of sleep cleared from my mind, it began.

A soft, rhythmic scraping noise, followed by the faint, familiar murmur of midnight chanting.

It came from behind the freshly painted drywall, right beside my head.