Chapter 194

　　Grayson

　　Isaac's slumped in the same metal chair when I step into the shipping container—still breathing, still stewing in his own blood, piss, and shame.

　　The stench hits harder this time.

　　Sour. Coppery. Lingering like rot in the back of my throat.

　　I bite back a gag.

　　Jesus Christ.

　　Someo...