Elena's POV

When I woke again, everything was white. Too bright. Too still. A hospital room.

My wrist was wrapped in gauze, my throat dry enough to bleed.

A man in a grey suit stood by the door-detective, probably. He looked tired, suspicious, and mildly sympathetic, which meant he didn't believe a word he was about to hear.

"Miss... Quinn?" he asked, glancing at a clipboard.

I blinked. "Yes," I said slowly, remembering the name I'd given before I blacked out.

"You were in the Syndicate ...