Gia's POV
The chains bit into my wrists. They weren't tight enough to draw blood—yet—but the longer I hung there, the more the burn set in. My arms were stretched above my head, my feet not touching the floor, my entire body suspended like some twisted prize. The cold air of the room licked my bare skin, making every nerve feel exposed.
I kept my breathing steady. Focused.
This was part of the plan.
Mostly.
Kind of.
Okay, maybe I hadn't expected to be hanging from the ceiling like a marionette, but that was the problem with plans built on luck and instinct—they changed shape midair. Just like me.
I had to hope the breadcrumbs I left were enough. That Dominic would see what I'd done. And he wouldn't fully panic about my disappearance.
That Bryan was working on his end. That someone would get to me before this all fell apart.
And if not?
Then I had to make it out myself. Because there was no way I was going to die here.
The door creaked.
