ELENA
My body aches, maybe from the bad sleeping posture. I stretch but a cold jangle restricts me. The smell, pungent and sharp, hits me next. My eyes snap wide but all I see are faint silhouettes dancing from the flames mounted to the wall.
What the hell is happening? Where am I? My heart hurries in my chest, each thump a desperate beat for some normalcy. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I realize where this is…the dungeon.
I stand—no, I am suspended—in the center of the dungeons, the rough stone walls pressing in.
The steel bites deeper with every tiny, desperate tremor I make. A presence moves into the light. My eyes, swollen and blurred with tears I cannot stop, fix on the figure before me.
It is him. It is Drake.
“I saw the documents, Elena,” he says coldly. My stomach clench
