Chapter 170: The Devil’s Cradle

Elira

I woke to the immediate, painful bite of rough rope against my wrists and ankles. The bindings smelled sharply of sweat and old, decaying wood. A single, bare lightbulb swung high above me, casting a sick, yellow circle of light onto the dirty floor. My throat felt raw and scraped, and my head pounded violently.

For a stunned moment, I couldn't move a muscle. Then, memory violently rushed in: the deep forest, the creak of the cabin door, my baby’s ...