Arla was shoved into the underground prep room, two guards took positions at the door while three maids entered, the head maid ripped the black transport gown down the front.
Arla backed away until she hit the wall.
"Do not resist," the head maid said. "Or we will sedate you."
Arla stopped moving, she dropped her arms.
They pushed her under a spray of hot water, used stiff brushes and antiseptic wash, scrubbing her skin until it turned red. One of the younger maids paused when she saw the scars on Arla's back, but the head maid shook her head. They kept scrubbing.
They washed her hair and checked her mouth again. When the water stopped, they draped a heavy black silk robe over her wet body. No underwear.
"He doesn't like barriers," the head maid muttered, tying the sash tight.
The door opened, Julian walked in. "Five minutes."
Arla stared at him.
Julian tapped his earpiece. "Status? Understood." He looked at Arla. "Go in there, do whatever he wants, don't fight him."
He sprayed a mist of perfume over her, then grabbed her arm and marched her out. They walked through the corridors and stopped in front of a double mahogany door. The sound of glass shattering came from inside.
The guard unlocked the door.
"Good luck," Julian said. He pushed her inside.
The door slammed shut behind her. The lock clicked.
The room was lit only by moonlight, furniture was overturned. In the corner, Culver Lancaster sat in a high-backed armchair.
He was breathing heavily, his shirt torn open, he held a shard of glass, blood dripping from his palm. He looked up, his eyes red.
"Come here," he rasped.
Arla shook her head and took a step back against the door.
Culver stood up, crossed the room in two strides. His hand wrapped around her throat, lifting her off the ground and slamming her against the wood.
"Who sent you?" he snarled. "Which paper? Which board member?"
Arla clawed at his wrist, kicking her legs.
