Leon’s POV

I taste blood before I even realize I’m bleeding. It’s metallic, sharp, coating my tongue as I strain against the grip pinning my arms behind my back. Cold cuffs bite into my wrists, cruel and final, a mockery of control I once believed was mine. My shoulder screams where someone forced me down, my cheek pressed hard against the gravel outside that miserable motel. The night air is icy now, no longer thick with possibility, only judgment. I laugh. The sound rips out of me, wild ...