SERAPHINA’S POV
I woke to the sensation of motion—the jarring bounce of tires on uneven ground.
My head throbbed, my mouth tasted like copper, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or why I couldn’t move my arms. Then it hit me.
The restaurant. The rogues. The staff. The fucking SUV.
I gasped, only to realize my mouth was dry and my arms were tightly bound behind my back.
The seat beneath me was the same smooth leather from before—too pristine, too polished, too wrong.
The bitter-sweet scent still lingered faintly beneath something sharper: sweat, and the metallic tang of fear—mine.
I shifted slightly, the hum of the car engine steady and cruelly calm. My wrists stung. I twisted them instinctively, trying to get a feel for the bindings. Zip ties. Unforgivingly tight.
“Finally awake, princess?” The partition was down now, and the driver’s voice floated through—coarse, amused.
