Aitana's POV
My eyelids felt heavy as sandbags, the world swimming into focus through a haze of pain. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, my body screaming from a dozen wounds. Silver chains bit into my wrists, but it was not because of the metal that my skin hurt. It was something different.
"Haniel?" I called out, but she didn't reply.
Whatever they gave to me was keeping her dormant, meaning I had to get out of this place on my own. I'm sure Tristan felt my pain, meaning he must be coming to the pack.
It took me a couple of minutes, but my vision finally cleared. I was in a dungeon—dark, damp, and reeking of mildew and old blood. The walls were rough-hewn stone, slick with condensation, and the only light came from a flickering torch outside my cell.
My wrists were shack
