Harold's POV
Even battle-hardened Malcolm felt his spine tingle as tortured screams rang out from behind the door. 'Damn! Miss Hale is ruthless!' he thought.
Unable to resist his curiosity, he leaned over and whispered to me, "Are you certain Miss Hale is just some delicate, innocent girl?"
Alistair stood close by, his expression equally troubled. He'd snuck a glance inside earlier, and despite Phoebe's soft appearance, she handled those wall-mounted tools like a pro—better than any of us.
I pressed against the wall, an unlit cigarette between my fingers. Since the screaming began, I hadn't looked inside once.
Not from fear—I simply knew Phoebe wouldn't lose her head and kill Mack impulsively.
Anyone with working ears could hear how vicious and bloody it had gotten. My face stayed neutral, my stare fixed and unshaken. But under that cool mask, only I understood how my heart raced.
