Clara woke to cold.
Not the gentle chill of an air-conditioned room or an open window.
This was damp, biting cold that crept into her bones and made her teeth ache.
For a few seconds, she didn't move. Her head throbbed, thick and heavy, like her skull had been stuffed with cotton. A sharp chemical smell lingered in her nose. Her tongue tasted bitter.
Then memory crashed back.
The cafe.
The napkin.
Laura smiling.
Her eyes flew open.
Dark ceiling. Rusted beams. A single hanging bulb swaying faintly above her.
A warehouse.
Panic surged through her chest.
She tried to sit up—
And something yanked painfully at her wrists.
Her hands were tied behind a metal chair.
Thick rope dug into her skin.
Her ankles too.
And something rough covered her mouth.
A cloth.
Her breathing spiked instantly. She thrashed, heart hammering so violently she thought she might faint again. The chair scraped loudly across concrete as she struggled, the sound echoing in the empty space.
