7. Ruslan

When I wake up, everything hurts. My head’s pounding, my throat feels like it’s been scraped raw, and my wrists sting with a familiar burn from the silver chains. But the softness beneath me is all wrong. I’m not hanging from the cold, unforgiving ceiling of the cell anymore. No, this... this is a bed. A pristine, clean bed.

I blink, my vision blurry, trying to get my bearings. No stone walls, no damp smell, no distant sounds of guards or prisoners. Just silence. My arms are still chained, but they’re lying at my sides now, the cuffs digging into my skin and attached to a long chain. My muscles ache, screaming from the strain of being bound for so long. I want to move, to shift, but I’m too weak. Too drained.

Where the hell am I? How did I get here?

I try to sit up, but my body protests, the pain shooting through me like fire. Before I can even try again, the door creaks open, and she walks in.

Katya.

The moment I see her, my blood starts to boil. Her sweet scent hits me first—peaches