The room was dark and airless, the kind of darkness that pressed in on the chest and made every breath feel stolen.
Hailey sat slumped in the chair, wrists and ankles locked tight in metal restraints. Her head throbbed violently, a relentless pressure behind her eyes, like her skull was being split from the inside.
Earlier, her body had fought—thrashing, shaking, rattling the restraints with frantic desperation. Now it had given up.
Mostly.
Her muscles still jerked in small, involuntary spasms. Each movement made a faint metallic clink, the only sound in the room besides her shallow breathing.
The light flickered on.
Harsh. White. Unforgiving.
It washed over her face, revealing bloodshot eyes rimmed with exhaustion, skin drained of color. Tears—thick, dark, unmistakably red—had carved streaks down her cheeks. Her hair clung damply to her face. She looked broken. Ruined.
Slowly, with effort that seemed monumental, Hailey lifted her head.
Vivian stood in front of her.
