Rachael POV
I was still tied to the chair when I came back to myself fully.
My wrists throbbed where the rope dug into my skin, numb and burning at the same time. My ankles were worse. Every small movement sent a sharp sting up my legs. My mouth was free now, the rag gone, but my throat felt raw, like I had screamed too much already.
The door opened.
The man came in carrying a tray. A plate of food. Bread. Something that smelled like stew. My stomach twisted on instinct, then tightened with anger. He kicked a small wooden stool toward me and sat down, setting the tray on his knees like we were just having a conversation.
“Eat,” he said.
I didn’t look at the food. I turned my head to the side instead, fixing my eyes on a crack in the bare wall. I could hear his steady breathing.
“I s
