Chapter 118. Locked Up.

The room looks like it belongs in a facility.

Frowning, I step forward, the soles of my feet whispering against the polished tile floor and echoing through the hollow chamber.

My gaze darts around, searching for any sign of an exit, but the room appears wholly sealed off.

A faint rustling draws my gaze to the far corner. My breath catches in my throat at the familiar mop of hair illuminated in the low light.

"Zane?" I whisper, hoping against hope this is some strange dream.

But those sea-green eyes, usually alight with wicked calculation, meet mine with a detached emptiness that confirms my worst fears.

He sits propped against the wall, long limbs are drawn up, and hands dangling limply between his knees like a marionette with cut strings.

Dark shadows haunt his pale face, and sweat coats his skin.

"Zane?" I called out cautiously, taking a few steps toward him. "What are you doing here?"

Zane lifts his head, his expression curiously blank.

"Ande," he responds flatly. "I should