Chapter 190 Help Me Fight Her, Simon

• Blake descended the winding staircase to the dungeon, the cold stone walls pressing in on him, the air growing damp and musty the deeper he went. Each step echoed in the narrow passageway, a reminder of how isolated the dungeon was from the rest of the Packhouse. It was a place meant for the forsaken, the guilty, and those who had lost everything—including their honor. As he approached the heavy iron door at the bottom, Blake squared his shoulders and steeled himself for what was to come.
• The guard at the door gave Blake a curt nod, recognizing the Beta and stepping aside to unlock the door. The hinges groaned as it swung open, revealing the dimly lit chamber within. Blake stepped inside, his eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom. The dungeon was a dismal place, with only a few narrow slits high on the walls letting in slivers of pale light. The air was thick with the smell of damp stone and something more acrid, a lingering scent of despair.
• In the center of the chamber, Simon sat slumped against the wall, his hands shackled in heavy iron cuffs that rattled whenever he moved. The once proud Gamma looked like a shadow of his former self. His clothes were tattered and stained, his hair matted, and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He glanced up as Blake entered, his expression one of bitter resentment rather than the usual defiance.