Chapter 82 The Broken Angel

Amanda's world spun as she was dragged into the cold shadows. The hand over her mouth muffled her screams, the metallic tang of leather gloves biting into her senses. Her body twisted in a desperate struggle, but the grip was unrelenting. Her skin prickled as adrenaline surged through her, the cool night air brushing against the exposed skin of her arms and legs. She tried to steady her racing thoughts, focusing on the dimly lit corridor she was being pulled through. The faint scent of damp stone mixed with the lingering sweetness of Vicktor’s cologne on her clothes, grounding her enough to think. The muffled chaos of the gunfight outside grew distant, replaced by the eerie echo of boots on marble floors.