Harley’s P.O.V.

Pain was the first thing I felt. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed behind my eyes, spreading slowly like a bruise blooming inside my skull.

I groaned and tried to move, but the mattress beneath me felt unfamiliar, too soft, too cold. The air smelled wrong too, not like home.

The word 'home' dragged memories to the surface. Derek, the wine, laughter forced too loud to mask my anxiety, and then the strange itch on my neck.

My stomach lurched as the memory sharpened. The dizziness came suddenly after that sensation, crashing over me like a wave. The room spun, and Derek’s voice sounded far away. And then hands,...