Amelia woke choking.Air burned her lungs as she sucked it in violently, her body jerking upright. Her head throbbed like it had been split open, and a bitter chemical taste clung to her tongue. Her wrists were bound behind her back, tight enough to cut circulation, and her ankles were tied to a metal chair bolted to the floor.She blinked hard, trying to focus.The room was dim, windowless, concrete walls stained with old watermarks. A single bulb hung overhead, swaying slightly, casting shadows that crawled across the floor.She was alone.“No,” she whispered hoarsely. “No… no…”Memory rushed back in jagged flashes—the men, the needle, the darkness.Lawson’s men.Or what was left of them.Her heart hammered violently. Panic clawed at her chest, but she forced herself to breathe. Panic wouldn’t save her. It never had.Footsteps echoed outside.Amelia straightened as much as the restraints allowed.The door opened.A man stepped in, tall and lean, dressed in an immaculate black suit t
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