The rough carpet beneath me is the first thing I feel when I come to. And then it’s a rush of distant aching below the belt, a pounding headache, and the driest mouth ever. I blink against the harsh LEDs above me. I’m still in the hotel room from last night.

Panic floods through me. My first thought is, was my cover blown? No signs that it was. And my second thought is, oh god it happened to me. But I don’t want to believe that.

It hurts even worse to sit up. I release a low groan, searching around my pockets and the floor around me for my burner phone. When my fingers curl around it, I find it’s still got power. I have to think long and hard about who I want to call. Who, if what I thought happened actually happened, is going to be the most helpful. I decide on my partner’s number.