Crimson Whispers

The air in the director's office felt tense, heavy with the unspoken history of failure. Grey walls surrounded you, a stark contrast to the world you were used to.
"So you're Helene Amsel," the director said, his smile not quite reaching his anxious eyes.
You knew why you were here. Nathan Parker. The name itself sent shivers down the spines of those who spoke it.
Stepping through the heavily locked doors, the maze-like hallways of Brooksville Penitentiary stretched before you, each corner a repetition of the last. Guards were everywhere, their presence a constant reminder of the danger.
Then you met him. Nathan Parker. Shackled but captivating, his dark eyes holding a terrifying allure. His smile was lazy, challenging.
"A new one?" he said, the chains clanking as he leaned forward. "That took long."
Your new reality had begun.
