Lyra's POV
My wrists ached from the ropes biting into my skin, the rough fibers digging deep until I could barely feel my hands. Every breath I took felt like fire, burning its way through my chest as panic clawed at me from the inside. The darkness pressed in, suffocating, making the air thick and stale. There was only one dim light, an overhead bulb that flickered weakly, casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the cracked concrete walls.
“How long has it been?”
Days? Hours? Time had lost all meaning after the first time they hit me. My cheek throbbed with a dull ache, swollen from the most recent blow, but I refused to give in. I wouldn’t cry. Not for them. Not when I still had hope, as fragile as it was. “Kurtis is coming. He’ll find me.”
But doubt was creeping in. Gnawing
