I descend the stairs under the soldiers' cottage that's about a hundred meters away from the main house. The last time I was here apart from last night was when my father locked me up for a few weeks—not the first time that happened, but certainly the last.
It smells of rotting flesh, wet walls, dust, and sewage. All the things that you don't want around you. Metal locks clink as Rusty, one of the guards, opens the door to the dungeon for me. We pass by three doors before stopping at the end of the hallway where my father has been held for the past three weeks.
"Should I stay, Boss?" Rusty asks and even after three weeks, I still feel strange hearing them call me that. I don't like my friends Jax, Enzo, and Duke to call me that so I explicitly told them not to, though sometimes they tease me about it. The other guards aren't the same, and I don't correct them. I shake my head to Rusty and wave for him to leave. "I'll be at the door," he says as he turns around.