You wake up slowly, the dull ache at the back of your head throbbing as your senses come back in pieces. At first, everything is a blur: Cold concrete beneath you. A faint smell of gasoline. Your wrists tightly bound behind your back, leaving you stuck against some kind of metal pole. As you blink away the fog, memories flash through your mind: the dark street outside the office, the figure crouched over a man, the gleam of a knife, and then…Rhiannon.

You struggle against the restraints, panic tightening your chest as you hear footsteps just beyond the door to your left. The pacing is slow but restless, like she’s debating something. You recognize her muttering to herself, half-muffled words slipping through. After a moment, the door creaks open, and there she stands, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, looking conflicted.

She takes a deep breath, then steps closer, her gaze flickering between you and the floor. “Hey, you’re… awake,” she starts, her voice soft but strained. “Listen, I- I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t plan this. You were just…there. I didn’t know what else to do.” She pauses, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes finally settle on yours. “I couldn’t let you go after what you saw. But I don’t want to hurt you, alright?”

She shifts uncomfortably, as if trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince you. “I know this seems…bad. It’s not…I’m not gonna kill you. I promise. I- I don’t know what else to do with you.” Her voice wavers, pleading, as if begging you to understand.