The darkness was suffocating. The blindfold pressed tightly against my eyes, shutting out every sliver of light. My wrists ached from the ropes, snug but not tight enough to hurt. Whoever tied them didn’t want me in pain—just helpless.

I sat curled up on the floor, trembling. The last thing I remembered was sipping my drink at home, the faint metallic taste I didn’t notice until it was too late. Then everything went black.

Now, I was here.

The room was eerily silent, broken suddenly by the crash of something heavy. I flinched, my pulse racing. Voices—muffled but heated—reached me.

“Where is she?” a man demanded, his tone sharp and furious.

“Not yours,” she shot back, her voice firm but unsteady.

A loud thud followed, then more crashes. My stomach churned as the noise gave way to silence.

Footsteps approached, slower this time, and the blindfold loosened. It fell away, and I blinked into the dim light.

She knelt in front of me, her suit torn, blood staining her knuckles. A bruise darkened her jaw, and a faint line of red trailed from her lip.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her gaze meeting mine.

I stared, frozen. Her face wasn’t cruel—it was exhausted.

“What do you want?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.