The frightened wolf began hyperventilating. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his eyes wide and unseeing.
Vael walked to the center of the room. He turned to face the fearless rogue first, his voice calm, almost conversational. "Your friend has one chance."
He turned to the frightened one. "You have one chance." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Just give me answers, and we'll move past this."
Silence reigned. Vael waited. Patiently. The frightened wolf's gasps filled the silence. The fearless one's jaw tightened, his muscles bunching.
Still nothing.
Vael nodded once—a small gesture, almost imperceptible. The guards stepped forward. The rogues panicked visibly. They didn't know what was coming next, and that uncertainty was a weapon in itself. The guards seized them, hoisting them up, attaching their chains to the ceiling hooks.
The rogues were suspended upside down, their wrists straining against the iron, their heads hanging inches from the floor.
