Alyssa’s POV
I wake up cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you forget what warmth ever felt like.
My head pounds. My arms ache. I shift on the thin, scratchy blanket beneath me and blink up at the ceiling—stone, cracked, and leaking in the corners.
The air smells like rust and mildew. My mouth is dry. My throat stings. My entire body feels like I was dragged through thorns and left for dead.
I sit up slowly. My wrist burns. There’s a bruise forming along my ribs. My legs tremble as I push myself up to my feet. The walls are too close. I touch the bars—solid, cold iron. A cell.
A real one.
What the hell is going on?
I take a few steps and start pacing, dragging my fingers along the wall, my breath picking up. I turn back, heart racing, fists clenched.
“Hello?” I shout, my voice echoing through the corridor. “Is anyone out there?”
Nothing.
I pound the bars. “Can someone tell me why I’m here? Why am I locked up?!”
Still silence.
Until it isn’t.
Heavy footsteps. Me
