Chapter 145 —The Devil is in his hell.

Narrator:

The clock on the wall ticked away with that unbearable slowness that only exists in places where time is punishment. The cold lights in the hallway flickered. The rusted metal of the bars was steeped in other stories. Other ruins.

Roman Adler sat on the concrete bench in his cell. Legs spread, elbows on his knees, hands clasped as if meditating... or as if planning an execution. His shirt was slightly open. Not because he wanted to be comfortable,