The bed felt too soft.
Eliana jolted upright, breathing hard. Her head throbbed, a deep ache behind her eyes. She blinked several times, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
A small room.
Four walls.
No windows.
A metal chair and a table bolted to the floor. A single light overhead that buzzed in a steady, maddening rhythm. The air smelled of disinfectant and rust.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was concrete, freezing against her bare feet. Her clothes were different—plain shirt, loose pants that weren't hers. No jewelry. No phone.
Her pulse picked up.
She scanned the corners fast, every movement sharp, jerky. There was nothing but a plastic bowl near the wall and a bare shower pipe sticking out of the tiles.
Her throat tightened. "What the hell…"
She stood, a little too quickly. The dizziness hit her again, a wave that made her grab the bed frame to steady herself. When it passed, she moved to the door—a flat, solid panel of steel.
