Elara’s POV
Waking up to the extreme light in my eyes. The first thing I noticed was the smell. Sharp. Familiar.
“Disinfectant…” I croaked, my voice cracking as my eyes fluttered open.
This wasn’t a hospital. The room was too quiet, foreign. My heart pounded as the memories crashed back, the banquet, the drink, the darkness, that man.
I looked down at myself. My dress was gone. In its place, an oversized shirt, clean, soft, carrying a scent I almost recognized but couldn’t place. My chest tightened. Whose shirt was this?
Panic surged. I staggered up, wobbling on unsteady legs until I reached the window. Escape. I had done this before…slipping out of the orphanage whenever Mother Mathilda came with her chain cane. Survival meant running. Always running.
One leg was already hooked on t
