Pain.
It crept in slowly, threading through her skull like fine needles. A dull, throbbing ache. A sluggish weight pressing down on her limbs. A thick, chemical fog clinging to the edges of her thoughts, curling around her mind like a slow-moving tide.
What…?
Her pulse kicked up. Something was wrong.
Memories slammed into her, sharp and fast.
Vector’s growl of warning—Run!
The masked men inside the store. The flash of silver nets. The explosion of gunfire. Running outside. The van. The burn of an injection in her neck before everything went black.
Her breath hitched. Vector.Where is he?
Was he hurt? Was he even?—
Her eyes snapped open.
The world was dim and unfamiliar. A haze blurred her vision, but she registered the scent first—old wood, agedwhiskey, expensive cigars. Underneath it, something fresher. Not flowers.Earth. Grass.
A window.
She turned her head, her body sluggish, and barely made out the shape of thick iron bars stretching across the glass. Beyond them, a sprawling garden—manicured hedges, a stone fountain glowing under the soft flicker of lantern light. The scenery was beautiful, pristine.
But she wasn’t fooled.
She was underground. A basement.
A prison.
Her wrists ached. Heavy leather straps bound them together in front of her, digging into her skin. A matching restraint circled her ankles, restricting her movements just enough to make standing difficult.
Her stomach twisted, cold fear knotting beneath her ribs, but she shoved it down.Focus. Assess. Get out.
A shift in the air.
Two men stood near the door, dressed in black tactical gear, their faces carved from stone. They were lean, sharp-eyed, their stillness unsettling—too controlled, too measured. Not ordinary muscle. Not amateurs.
Killers.
Her throat was dry, her voice rough. But she forced out the words anyway. “Where is Vector?”
Neither of them answered.
She struggled against the restraints, testing, feeling the way, they resisted her every move.Move. Function.Every part of her felt wrong, like her body wasn’t entirely her own, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself upright anyway.
The taller guard shifted slightly, his fingers flexing near his weapon.
She took a step forward—or tried to. The restraints around her ankles forced her into an awkward shuffle. Her jaw tightened. “Where is he?”
Nothing.
The silence grated, sharp and cold. Her jaw clenched. “You just kidnapped me off the street, drugged me, and dragged me here, and you think I’m just going to sit here and be quiet?” Her voice rose, pulse hammering against her ribs. “You think I’m going to play the helpless victim?”
A smirk ghosted across the shorter man’s face. “No, actually. We were warned you might be a problem.”
Damn right.
