Page 1 of Sinful Embers

Chapter 1

LEIGH

The cold seeps into my bones, dragging me out of a groggy haze. My head throbs like someone took a hammer to it, and the bitter taste in my mouth makes me gag. My throat feels raw, like I’ve swallowed sandpaper. Blinking against the dim light, I try to make sense of my surroundings, but my thoughts remain sluggish, wrapped in a fog I can’t shake.

Where the fucking hell am I?

The cot beneath me is stiff, barely better than lying on a slab of concrete. The scratchy blanket draped over me does little to shield me from the icy air. I push myself up, wincing as my muscles scream in protest. My pulse quickens as I take in my surroundings.

This isn’t a room. It’s a goddamn cell—straight out of my nightmares.

A metal table dominates the center, its surface gleaming under the dim overhead light. Restraints hang from the sides, thick leather straps like silent threats. Chains dangle from the ceiling in the far corner, their shadows dancing on the rough brick walls. My stomach churns.

The dim wall lights illuminate a toilet, hand basin, and crude shower at the foot of the cot. There’s no privacy, no barrier—just sitting there for anyone to see upon entering. Across the room, there’s a door with a small observation window and four chairs line the wall next to it, like some twisted waiting room for an audience I don’t ever want to meet.

I shiver, tugging the blanket tighter around myself. The cold bites at my bare feet, and the rough fabric of the green scrubs I’m wearing rubs uncomfortably against my skin.

Green scrubs?

I glance down at myself, and the sight jars me.

What the crap?

Fragments of memory push against the fog clouding my mind:Radomir’s hands on me, his lips trailing fire over my skin, his weight pressing me into the mattress.I remember the pleasure, the intensity of it, and falling asleep tangled in his arms.

But I didn’t fall asleep like this.

My pulse quickens as the realization strikes me. Someone dressed me.

Revulsion churns in my gut, and I tug at the neckline of the scrubs, their texture coarse and alien. My gaze darts around the room again, taking in the restraints, the table.

Shit, I’m not wearing scrubs—it’s a fucking prison uniform.

I feel like I can’t breathe as panic surges through me and the blanket suddenly feels suffocating. I shove it off, swinging my legs over the side of the cot. The motion tugs painfully at something heavy on my ankle, and a clink of metal makes my heart lurch.

I look down.

A fucking chain.

The cuff around my left ankle is thick, cold steel. It’s attached to a long chain—a leash.

A wave of déjà vu crashes over me, unearthing something dark and distant.

I’ve seen this place before.

A hazy memory shimmers at the edge of my mind, just out of reach. Chill blades run down my spine as my panic rises. My chest tightens with the oppressive weight of being trapped. Instinctively, I yank at the cuff, my breath coming faster, but the metal doesn’t budge. It just digs into my skin, leaving a sharp ache.

Think, Leigh. Think.

But my head feels too heavy, and my throat too dry to focus. My gaze lands on the metal table. A bottle of water sits on its surface, the clear liquid catching the light. Beside it, three books are stacked neatly, topped with a small card.

I squint at the books...

From where I’m sitting, they look like some of my old songbooks. My breath catches. That can’t be right. My old songbooks—except the one I use—are packed away in boxes Radomir has stored somewhere.

What the crap, is going on?

I clutch my head, trying to remember how I got from Radomir’s bed to here. My last memory is falling asleep in his arms. My eyes widen as a voice echoes in my mind:Your phones been cloned!Nikolas’s warning slams into me.

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