Awful cramps twisted through my growling stomach — the result of barely eating in the past few hours. Or days? I still couldn't figure out how much time had passed since that moment at the bar.
I stretched out on the bed, sinking into a mattress that was way too soft, too perfect. I let my thoughts spill out like a river breaking its banks, crashing over me: I was going to have to live under rules that meant nothing to me. I'd considered myself a free spirit ever since my mother died — I'd had to be, there was no other option — and now that spirit had been locked up like a little bird in a gilded cage.
But caged birds, even the smallest and most fragile ones, sometimes bite.
I'd be patient. I'd behave as well as I possibly could while I figured out why I was there — until my friends cam
