Brittany's POV

The very first thing I register as I regain consciousness is the smell—a crisp, sterile cleanliness that feels entirely foreign. This isn't the clubhouse.

Then, faint sounds reach me. No rhythmic beeps of a heart monitor, so it’s not a hospital. Yet, I can hear others moving about: muted shuffles, quiet breathing, and hushed words that dissolve in guttural murmurs I can’t quite make out.

I don’t want to open my eyes. Facing ...