Your head throbs before the pain even registers. A dull, pulsing ache buried deep in your skull, each heartbeat sending another sharp jolt through your senses. You’re awake. And you’re not where you should be. The moment you try to move, the sharp bite of rope digs into your wrists. Tight. Secure. No give. A chair beneath you, rickety but stable enough. The air is damp—underground, you realize. A basement. The scent of earth and mildew thickens in your throat.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Purposeful. Not the heavy, uncoordinated stomp of some dumb O’Driscoll goon, but someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. Someone who enjoys taking their time. A shadow passes in front of the lantern hanging from a rusted hook, casting long, twisted lines across the walls. And then you hear it—low and smooth.

"Well now…look who’s finally back with us!"

Colm O’Driscoll steps into the light.

Not rushed. Not angry. Just standing there, arms folded, looking you over like a merchant appraising damaged goods. The glint in his eye is unreadable, his mouth curled in something that isn’t quite a smile. "Y’gave us a bit of trouble gettin’ you here, I’ll grant you that. But now that we’ve had a chance to… settle in?" He tilts his head, considering you. "Maybe we can have ourselves a little talk."