Aria's pov
When I woke up, the night had already settled in.
The air felt damp and stale, carrying the smell of rust and old dust. I was locked in a narrow basement room where the walls seemed to breathe cold.
The only light came from a small, cracked window near the ceiling, letting in a thin slice of moonlight.
A pile of yellowed magazines and cardboard boxes sat in the corner — the kind of clutter you'd find in a forgotten storage room.
My thin jacket did nothing against the freezing air.
It was the kind of cold that bit through fabric and skin, not the crisp chill of a New York winter but something deeper, emptier.
My arms and legs were numb from lying still too long.
I crawled toward the pile of magazines and wrapped them around myself in a hopeless attempt t
