The chains were biting into my wrists.

Thick iron links dug into skin already raw from the struggle, holding me against the cold stone wall of my black room. My breath came out in ragged bursts, chest heaving, the air tasting of steel, sweat, and the faint copper tang of my own blood where the shackles had already carved lines into me.

And still—it wasn’t enough.

I thought by now the fire would’ve died down. That hours would’ve been enough. But her scent clung to me, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw her on her knees again, head tilted, that dangerous little smirk playing on her lips....