Aria’s POV
The cabin was cloaked in dim shadows, the fading light of dusk barely illuminating the rough wooden walls. My wrists ached from the tight rope, chafed red and raw, and the gag Drake had used earlier still left a bitter metallic taste in my mouth. My head pounded, the remnants of the drug still dulling my senses, but not enough to blur the truth of where I was—and who had brought me here.
The door creaked open.
Drake stepped inside with a swagger in his step and a smug smile plastered across his face. He looked pleased with himself, like a child who’d completed a wicked prank. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and his hands—though bandaged loosely—still bore faint scorch marks from silver.
“Silver burns like a b***h,” he murmured as he shut the door behind him, “b
