[Emma's POV]
The van jerked to a stop so suddenly that my shoulder slammed into cold metal, a sharp thud that reverberated through bone. Pain flared, hot and immediate, blooming down my arm. My wrists were still bound—plastic ties cutting into skin rubbed raw—and the blindfold pressed tight against my eyes, sealing the world into suffocating black. The only sound was the engine winding down, its fading hum like a dying breath.
For a moment, everything was still. The silence felt unnatural, loaded—like the air before a storm.
Then came the footsteps. Slow. Measured. Each step crunched softly on gravel, the rhythm deliberate and unhurried. But something about them was wrong—off-kilter, as if the person walking didn’t belong in their own skin.
A door creaked open behind me. Cold night air
