Page 185 of Sinful Games

I winced at the sharp, acrid smell of smoke, every breath burning through my lungs. Forcing my eyes open, I was met with nothing but pitch-black darkness, the thick smoke curling around me, swallowing everything in sight.

The heat was unbearable. I tried to rub my eyes out of instinct, only to find my movements painfully restricted. That’s when it hit me—my arms were tied behind my back, the ropes biting into my skin with every shift.

Where am I?

I struggled to stand, my feet scraping against therough ground. Barefoot, the tattered remains of my long dress barely clung to me, a large tear exposing my right leg. Tiny cuts covered my skin, some crusted with dried blood.

The smoke thickened, the darkness pressing in tighter.

Standing there, fighting for air, I tried to piece together what happened. My mind was foggy, and the raw pain in my throat made it nearly impossible to think. The smoke stung my eyes, forcing tears to spill down my face, mixing with the sweat and dirt clinging to my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing through the sharp sting.

Flashes of memory flickered in my head: the grandeur of the exhibition, Alexsei’s lips against mine, the elegant sculptures, Sofiya’s carefree laughter. I could still taste the champagne that had suddenly turned sour. A man’s cold, detached voice sliced through the blur. Each memory felt disjointed, fragments of a puzzle I couldn’t quite fit together.

The last clear moment I had was washing my hands in the ladies' room. Then, something pressed against my lips out of nowhere, and everything went dark.

Oh God, someone must’ve drugged me.

I groaned, yanking harder against the ropes cutting into my wrists. The more I struggled, the tighter they dug in, scraping my skin raw and leaving my wrists throbbing.

A frustrated cry slipped out as the pain shot through me.

The thick stench of smoke only got worse, and then it hit me: the place was on fire. If I didn’t get out soon, the whole building would come crashing down on me.

Squinting, I forced my eyes to adjust to the darkness, the smoke choking me with every breath. My lungs felt like they were being crushed. Through the haze, a faint red light flickered a few meters away—barely visible, but it was something.

I staggered toward it, feet slipping on debris and uneven ground. Every step felt like a fight just tostay upright.

As I got closer, the red light finally sharpened into something familiar. It was an exit sign—dim, barely there, but unmistakable.

I pushed forward, dragging myself the rest of the way until I reached the door.

Desperation clawed at me as I slammed my shoulder into the door, but the damn thing didn’t even budge. No matter how many times I threw myself at it, it stayed stubbornly locked. A frustrated scream ripped from my throat, but it was swallowed up by the thick, suffocating smoke. Every breath was a battle, the air turning hotter and more poisonous by the second.

Giving it one last shot, I staggered back, braced myself, and charged. My body crashed against the solid metal with everything I had.

Pain exploded through me as my shoulder smashed into the door, sending a shockwave straight down my arm. I hit the ground hard, clutching my shoulder. The pain was blinding, spreading like fire—something had to be broken.

My cries turned into pitiful choking sounds as I tried to get enough air, the stench of burning filling my lungs.

The exit was right there, close enough to touch, but it might as well have been a mile away.

I was trapped.

Too wiped out to keep going, barely able to breathe, I collapsed onto my side. My vision blurred, and the agony in my shoulder dulled to a distant throb as my body finally gave in.

I shut my eyes and let the darkness swallow me whole.

A soft touch brushed my cheek, barely there, pulling me out of unconsciousness. My eyelids fluttered open, squinting against the harsh, sterile lights overhead. Everything was a blur at first, the edges of the room fuzzy as I tried to make sense of where I was. The steady beep of machines and the faint scent of antiseptic crept in, anchoring me in reality.

I was laid up in a hospital bed, needles and tubes hooked into my arms. The thin hospital gown clung awkwardly to my skin, a light blanket pulled up to my waist. My eyes wandered around the room, catching on the vibrant bouquets scattered on tables, their bright colors a stark contrast to the plain white walls.

The dull throb in my arm slipped into the background as a familiar voice, soft and small, broke through the fog.

"Mama, you’re awake, finally!"

My heart stopped.

I turned my head slowly, almost afraid of what I might see.

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