A low groan escaped from Violet's throat as consciousness slowly crept back in. Her head pounded like war drums, and her whole body ached all over as if she had been run over by a truck. Except if that was the case she wouldn't be alive. Right now, she was still breathing.
The first thing she saw when her eyes blinked open was a familiar face. Griffin Hale was hovering above her with warm brown eyes and a big, sad smile.
"Hello, beautiful," he said gently.
For a fleeting second, Violet smiled back, comforted by the familiar warmth in his gaze, until last night came crashing into her mind.
She bolted upright, gasping, but her muscles buckled beneath her, and she sank to the floor, palms slapping down to break the fall.
"What the…?" Violet muttered, her heart thundering. Then she looked down, and froze.
Thick, rusted shackles bound her ankles, the cold bite of metal digging into her skin.
