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PROLOGUE

HER

I t was the feeling of being watched that first had my eyes moving under my lids, my lashes fluttering just enough to be noticeable as I fought to pry them apart. They were heavy, so fucking heavy. Like two bricks were placed on my face to hold me down and there wasn’t shit I could do to swat them away. Because my hands… weren’t moving either.

I didn’t have time to question the gravity of my situation before the damp air was bristling my skin, causing my muscles to spasm involuntarily as the antiseptic smell—a mix of alcohol and too much bleach—burned the insides of my nostrils. Followed by the buzzing of the harsh fluorescent lighting penetrating my eardrums. My temples throbbing in rhythm with my quickening heartbeat. Which was all I could hear now.

The thump, thump, thumping against my rib cage.

I was in a hospital. That had to be it. But why? What happened? Was I in some sort of accident?

I couldn’t remember anything since the airport. Since grabbing my suitcase from baggage claim and following my boss to her town car. Everything after that felt fuzzy. I didn’t know what day it was or where I was supposed to be right now. Or if I even had a job anymore.

And I still couldn’t move my arms or legs…

My internal panic was rising to the surface as I tried to take a mental inventory of the rest of my anatomy and quickly realized my fingers and toes were twitching. My breathing slowed along with the pounding in my chest until I heard his voice… the one that accompanied the eyes I could still feel boring past the layers of flesh and bone, severing all nerve connections and rendering me immobile.

I didn’t need the drugs I was certain were rushing through my system. Not with the weight of those eyes watching me.

“Welcome back, pet.” His tone was low, raspy. Like someone who’d spent far too many hours screaming at the top of their lungs and was now forcing air through a set of damaged vocal cords.

I didn’t have much more time to think on it as I felt a pair of heavy palms slam down on each side of my head. My lids flung open, forcing me to stare into two black holes where eyes should be. And weren’t. But I could still feel them. Staring at me. Through me.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t in a hospital. Doctors didn’t wear black tactical pants or have knives strapped to their hips. And emergency room walls weren’t made of concrete. No, I was below ground. Maybe in some sort of basement?

Before I had a chance to piece it all together, or at least try to, the figure was pushing back from the mattress and positioning himself across the dank room, drawing my attention to what I could only assume was the biggest threat to me getting out of here—wherever here was— alive .

Him. The man in the cloth mask. His head tipped to the side as he continued to glare at me through the thin fabric that kept his identity as much a mystery as the rest of him.