[Evelina's POV — Unknown Warehouse—Night]
Cold.
That was the first thing I felt. Concrete biting through thin fabric. Damp air clinging to my skin. The kind of cold that didn't shock you awake—but seeped in slowly, patiently, like it had all the time in the world.
My head throbbed.
A low, nauseating ache pulsed behind my eyes as consciousness dragged itself back piece by piece. I tried to move—Nothing.
Rope.
Thick. Coarse. Tight around my wrists, pulled behind the metal chair I was bound to. My ankles were tied too, the knot brutal and efficient. Whoever did this didn't improvise.
They planned.
My breath hitched—but I forced it steady. Panic wastes oxygen. Panic wastes time.
I lifted my head slowly and my heart cracked.
"Alina…"
She was right beside me.
Smaller chair. Smaller ropes. Her hands were tied clumsily in front of her, and her legs barely touched the floor. Her head was drooping, curls falling into her face, and chest rising too fast.
Alive.
Thank God—alive.
