Fiona’s POV

The blindfold had become my prison, sealing me in a darkness so complete that every sound felt like a gunshot in the void. My knees throbbed against the cold concrete, and the ropes had long since rubbed my wrists raw, sending sharp stings up my arms with every tiny shift. Jordan’s presence lingered like a shadow—his cologne thick and nauseating, and his occasional low chuckles made my skin crawl. I used to think he liked me back in Marian's house, but his switch was the ...