40. Matilda

The acrid, chemical smell of lemons is the first thing that hits me.

Then the fact I cannot move my hands. Rough, painfully sticking tape clamp them together.

Blinking, the room is miserably dark and from the soft cushioning underneath me I realise I am on a mattress. As my vision gradually adjusts, I recognise the grey walls, the dark, almost charred wood of the four-poster bed. I am back at Beta Tange’s.

I am back in the room I shared with Cillian.

The same bed I fell apart in his arms with, heard his pained confession and felt love. My head is pounding like I’ve taken a beating. I can barely make out Nina's presence. In a panic, I wonder if she has been taken from me like Vez. My bound hands struggle towards my neck, checking for cuts. After a few minutes of wriggling, I realise I can sense her faintly, just enough to quell my panic. I still have a wolf, albeit a completely tranquillised one.

Whatever the hell that woman, Ruth, did to me has left me eerily alone with my thoughts.