Pain.
It was the first thing Damon felt as he regained consciousness. A sharp, searing pain radiated from his side, making every breath feel like fire ripping through his ribs. His vision swam as he forced his heavy eyelids open.
The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and something darker—"blood. His blood."
Damon gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening as he tried to move. "Restraints." Thick leather straps bound his wrists to the chair, cutting into his skin with every slight movement. His ankles were the same. He was trapped.
A soft, mocking chuckle echoed from the shadows.
“Awake so soon?”
Damon "knew that voice."
Victor.
His mind snapped back to the last thing he remembered—"the gunshot, Alina’s scream, the way her body had been wrench
