~TESSA'S POV~
The silence didn't just linger, it pressed in harder. It crowded the space around me, thick and deliberate, like it was meant to suffocate thought itself. I swallowed, my throat dry, and forced my mind to keep moving. Panic would be easy. Giving in would be easier. But neither would save me.
I needed to think.
"So I'm not disposable," I muttered into the emptiness, my voice rough, unfamiliar even to my own ears. The words felt brittle, but they steadied me. "Good to know."
The chains rattled softly as I straightened my back, the sound sharp in the quiet. Pain flared where the metal bit into my wrists and shoulders, but I ignored it, forcing myself upright anyway. I refused to curl inward. Refused to look small. If this, all of this—was planned, then it wasn't chaos. It was intention. And intention always followed a pattern.
And patterns could be broken.
"Think, Tessa," I whispered, the name grounding me, anchoring me to myself. "What do they want?"
