I hated this.
Hated that I’d been sloppy and too focused on myself to realize somebody had been drugging me.
And the worst part?
I had no idea how.
It could’ve been the champagne.
The food.
The water.
Hell, even the air at this point.
But that made no sense.
I hadn’t smelled anything strange.
No chemicals.
No herbs.
No blood.
Nothing unusual in the food or drinks.
No needle marks on my skin either.
No cuts.
No scratches.
Nothing.
Which somehow made everything even worse.
“Could it be a spell?” I asked hesitantly, hating how weak my voice sounded.
Especially because they were all listening.
Doctor Harris sighed softly.
“I don’t think so,” he admitted. “But… if the tests come back clean, then yes. That becomes a possibility.”
Wonderful.
Absolutely f*****g wonderful.
