Cold was the first thing she noticed.
Not the sharp, biting cold of mountain air—but a damp, creeping chill that sank into her bones, clinging to her skin no matter how tightly she curled inward.
Holly came to slowly, awareness trickling back in fragments.
Stone beneath her cheek.
The ache in her wrists.
The pounding throb behind her eyes.
She sucked in a breath—and immediately regretted it.
The air was stale. Heavy. Laced with the scent of old smoke, wet earth, and something else beneath it all. Something animal. Something that made her stomach twist.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Darkness pressed in from every direction, broken only by a thin line of pale light seeping through what looked like a narrow opening high above her. A crack in stone. A vent. Or maybe a barred window.
Not a
