Deep underground, the air was thick and stale, lit by the flickering yellow bulbs lining the metallic walls. A massive reinforced glass window stood before a room, casting its cold reflection onto the cemented hallway. Behind it, Greg Tarrow stood with his arms crossed, looking down into the chamber that held two figures—Aiden White and Panny White, bound and seated on metal chairs.
Aiden's head hung low, still unconscious.
But Panny raised her head, her eyes burning with defiance and confusion.
"Why are you doing this, Greg!!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the chamber walls.
Greg didn't respond at first. He simply stared, his face tight with bitterness and rage. Then, slowly, he turned toward her with eyes that no longer held the warmth of the man they once knew.
"Seriously, Panny… You and John took everything from me."
His voice trembled slightly—not with fear, but fury.
"My wife died. My daughter died. Because of you lot!"
