The Prey

I woke to darkness.

I didn’t know where I was, but I knew everything hurt—my body, my head, and my chest. Especially my heart. It throbbed like a living, bleeding wound, as if someone had carved it open and left it to rot.

I tried to move, but something held me in place. Ropes? Chains? My wrists screamed at the scrape of whatever bound them, raw and tender from struggling. My legs were numb, bent awkwardly beneath me, and the air smelled of damp stone and blood—maybe mine.

I swallowed back the bile clawing up my throat, my tongue dry and metallic. The pounding in my skull didn’t...