Freya’s pov.

Terror clenched my chest.

Where was I? How long had I been here?

My heart hammered, but it was the fear of not knowing that truly unmade me. This wasn’t just captivity. It was desecration. They were harvesting me. Using me. My blood.

Then I heard it—a sound like static. A low mechanical hum. A door sliding open.

Footsteps.

I lifted my head, barely, vision swimming. A figure in a white coat stepped forward, flanked by two ...