Chapter 18 The Ultimatum

• Waking felt like crawling back into my body through broken glass.
• Every breath dragged against my ribs. My skin was a map of aches, each bruise pulsing like a drum under my flesh. My mouth was dry, metallic, the taste of copper sharp on my tongue. Somewhere, I knew I had been out for hours, maybe longer. Time had slipped its leash, and I’d been left behind in the dark.
• The ceiling above me swam into focus. Ornate. Pointless. White plaster roses blooming across a sky I wanted to set on fire. I shifted, and pain lanced through my side so sharp it stole the sound from my throat. My wrists burned where the rope had been. My cheek throbbed, hot and swollen from his hand. His hand.