The first thing Lana felt was the cold.
It crawled beneath her skin, sharper than the rain tapping against the boarded window. Her wrists ached where the tape rubbed raw, and every breath she took came out shallow, like her lungs were too small for her chest.
The last thing she remembered was Terry putting the tape around her hand
Now, she was here.
In a cabin that felt miles away from anything sane.
The faint glow of a lantern threw warped shapes against the wall. Somewhere beyond the door came the low murmur of voices. there were three of them. She recognized one instantly. Terry. The man who had dragged her through the corridor and whispered, don't scream, just move.
The other was sharper, colder. A woman's voice. Controlled and deliberate.
Lana pressed herself against the wall, straining to hear.
"…no idea what you've done," the woman was saying. Her voice didn't rise, it didn't need to. The edge in it could cut glass.
