I woke up to cold metal pressing against my cheek. My arms were twisted behind me, and my wrists were bound tight with what felt like a zip tie. My ankles, too. 

The scent of rust, sweat, and engine oil hit me first, then pain. My ribs screamed when I shifted. My neck burned where the dart hit. The back of my throat was dry and sour, like I’d swallowed smoke and metal.

“Wren?” Mira’s whisper cut through the silence.

I blinked into darkness. My eyes adjusted enough ...