Sandy's POV
My eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar ceiling painted in soft cream. The surface above me was smooth and pristine, nothing like the rough concrete I'd grown accustomed to during my captivity.
Everything felt distant and foggy. My limbs were heavy, my thoughts scattered like puzzle pieces I couldn't quite fit together.
Here I was again, caught in the same endless cycle. Born to be a pawn, always destined to be someone's bargaining chip. The pattern never seemed to break, no matter how hard I tried to escape it.
I remained still, letting my mind wander to what fresh hell awaited me this time. But something felt different. The mattress beneath me yielded in a way that spoke of luxury rather than punishment. It was too comfortable for a prisoner's quarters.
Even stranger was the complete absence of restraints. No metal cuffs bit into my wrists or ankles. I rolled onto my side, burying my face in a pillow that smelled clean and expensive.
