The bruise is probably ugly already.
Could be worse.
Much worse.
I flex my fingers slowly, checking circulation again out of habit.
Still good.
My watch is gone.
Medical bag gone.
Phone gone.
Not surprising.
The only thing they left me was my necklace.
Which means they either missed it—
Or didn’t think it mattered.
I reach up automatically, fingers brushing the thin chain resting against my throat.
Small silver cross.
My mother’s.
The metal feels warm against my skin now.
Familiar.
Grounding.
I let my hand fall again and force myself to focus.
Emotion later.
Survival now.
The steel door suddenly unlocks.
I’m on my feet before it fully opens.
Adrenaline hits fast and sharp as two armed men step inside.
One stays near the door.
The other walks toward me carrying a tray.
Food.
Water.
Interesting.
The man sets it down carefully on the small table near the wall.
