Nicoletta surfaced slowly, as if swimming up through thick darkness. At first, the world was nothing but black—dense, heavy, almost velvety against her skin. Then a muted glow pressed through the blindfold, too faint to make sense of. She tried to move and froze immediately: a sharp pull at her wrists told her they were tied behind the back of a hard wooden chair.
Not home.
Not safe.
Her pulse spiked so violently it hurt. The room smelled unfamiliar—cold stone, dust, and something that reminded her of iron. The silence was wrong too. It wasn’t empty. It was expectant.
Someone was here. Watching.
Nicoletta swallowed hard. Her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper:
“Where am I?”
No answer. Only her own words bouncing back from the walls. Panic crawled up her spine, ice-cold, b
