TATE
I WOKE UP soft.
That should’ve been a good thing, right?
Soft bed. Clean sheets. Air that didn’t stink like mildew and piss. But I blinked up at the white ceiling and felt... wrong. Like the world had tipped sideways and hadn’t told me.
“What the hell,” I muttered under my breath.
For a second, I didn’t move. My brain was still stitching itself back together, memories dragging like rusted chains. There’d been shouting. Enzo. Eli. That look in Enzo’s eyes that was cold enough to freeze bone, cruel enough to make someone disappear.
My skin itched.
I sat up too fast. The sheet slipped down my chest. There was no cuffs, no restraints. Just me, breathing too hard in a room that looked... normal.
But it wasn’t.
It never is.
The floor was carpeted. Thick, clean, like it belonged in
