The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 403

Once Leilani was in the car, the young man navigated through the city's winding streets. They left the bustling downtown area behind, eventually driving into a chaotic, run-down urban village. The alleyways were narrow, the walls were peeling with age, and the air hung heavy with the smell of dampness and cooking grease.

The young man parked the van in front of a dilapidated residential building and turned to Leilani with a grin. “We’re here. Follow me.”

Leilani followed him up the stairs. The stairwell was dim, and their footsteps echoed in the hollow space. When they reached the top floor, the young man pulled out a key and unlocked a rusty iron door.

“After you.” He stepped aside to let her pass.

Leilani walked in. The room was dark, the curtains drawn tight against the day. The only illumination came from a single, dim table lamp. In the center of the room, a man sat in a wheelchair with his back to her, perfectly still.

Leilani narrowed her eyes. Just as she was about to speak, she heard a sharp ‘click’ behind her. The door had been locked.

She whipped around to see the young driver standing outside in the hallway, grinning at her through a small window in the door. “Take your time chatting,” he taunted.

Leilani rushed to the handle, but as expected, it wouldn't budge. She was locked in with the mysterious stranger. Her eyes turned cold, but she quickly regained her composure. She turned back to face the figure in the wheelchair.

“Who are you?” she asked calmly.

The wheelchair slowly rotated, and the man finally faced her. The lighting was poor, but the yellow glow of the lamp revealed a face that belonged in a nightmare. It was a landscape of scars, resembling tree bark scorched by fire—grotesque and twisted. Likely due to long-term confinement indoors, his skin was a sickly, morbid pale, like rotting wood deprived of sunlight. The crisscrossing scars, however, were an angry, dark red, looking like dried blood crawling across his face.

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