The air was cold. Damp.
Elena’s eyes fluttered open, her head pounding like a drum. Everything was blurry. A single bulb flickered above her, casting shadows across cracked cement walls. The room smelled of old blood and metal. Her hands were tied. Her feet too.
She was on the floor. Alone.
A groan escaped her lips as she tried to sit up. Her side ached—bad. Every breath felt like fire. She remembered the gun, the fight, the smoke… Damian’s voice screaming her name… then blackness.
Where am I?
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
Boots clicked against the concrete.
And then came that voice—smooth, cocky, too calm for a monster.
“Well, well, well... look who finally woke up.” A chuckle followed. “Elena Rivera. Welcome to my humble little corner of the world.”
Her eyes widened.
No.
It
