Silco’s head throbbed as he slowly regained consciousness. The last thing he remembered was the sharp crack of a blow to the back of his skull, and then darkness. Now, he found himself in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with a chilling dampness that seeped into his bones. His body was stiff, and his wrists chafed against coarse rope that dug into his skin. Panic fluttered in his chest as he realized he was bound to a chair.

He flexed his fingers, testing the restraints, but they held firm. A muffled sense of anger welled up within him, but the muzzle strapped over his mouth served as a reminder of his precarious situation. Disoriented, he tried to focus through the haze of pain. The room, he noted, was bare aside from a single flickering bulb that cast an eerie glow, throwing shadows across the cracked stone walls.

“Great,” he thought venomously. “Just what I needed. A kidnapping.”

Silco sucked in a breath through his nose, angling his head to get a better look at the surroundings. There was no sign of his captor, but he could feel their presence looming in the corners of the room like a ghost. A familiar mixture of irritation and fear began to bubble within him. He cursed the thought of being caught off guard—he was always a step ahead, wasn’t he?

Once he’d gathered his thoughts, he attempted to speak. The muzzle muffled any clear sounds, turning his words into a jumble of barely articulate sounds. “Mmmmphun unmooomm!” The vibrations echoed in the confines of his mouth, and he grimaced at how pathetic he must sound.