A drain in the floor for easy cleanup.
We've used this room before.
Not often.
But enough that everyone knows what it means when someone ends up here.
They don't leave.
We chain Ted to the chair.
His arms behind his back, ankles secured to the chair legs.
He's starting to stir now.
The chloroform is wearing off.
"Go get Runes," I tell Hakon. "And Fenrir. They need to know what's happening."
"They're not going to be happy."
"I know."
Hakon disappears upstairs.
Ulf stays, watching Ted with disgust.
"What did he do?" he asks. "I mean, I know he attacked Ingrid. But the knees—that's personal."
"He rapes children."
Ulf goes still.
"What?"
"The trafficking ring. He doesn't just transport them. He 'samples the merchandise' before they're sold. Breaks them in for buyers who want them already—" I can't finish the sentence. "He told me himself. Bragged about it like it was a perk of the job."
"Jesus Christ."
"Yeah."
Ted's eyes flutter open.
I spot confusion first, then pain—his destroyed knees screaming back to life, then he realizes what’s happening.
He sees where he is.
Sees the chains, the concrete, the drain.
Understands what's coming.
"No," he croaks. "No, please—I told you everything—I gave you the names?—"
"And now you're going to tell them too."
Footsteps on the stairs.
Heavy.
