At least outwardly.
Inside?
Different story.
Because now I know this isn’t ransom.
Not random violence either.
They took me for a reason.
Which means eventually—
Someone’s going to come through that door wanting something from me.
The thought settles heavy in my stomach.
I force myself to eat anyway.
One bite at a time.
Slow.
Controlled.
Across the room, exposed pipes hum softly behind the walls.
Generator power.
Temporary setup.
I keep coming back to that.
Temporary means weak points.
Weak points mean opportunities.
I just need time.
The problem is—
Time works both ways.
The longer I’m here, the harder extraction becomes.
The harder rescue becomes.
My chest tightens unexpectedly at the thought.
Rescue.
No.
I shove that away immediately.
I am not sitting here waiting for someone to save me.
That kind of thinking gets people killed.
