Chapter 92 The Puppet And The Player

A sharp pounding echoed in my skull as I stirred awake, my body heavy, sluggish. The sheets beneath me were soft—too soft. This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t Theo’s bed. Panic clawed at my chest as I slowly pushed myself up, realizing with a sickening jolt that I was only half-dressed. My dress was still on, but the straps had slipped down my shoulders, my heels discarded on the floor. My fingers trembled as I reached for them, my heart hammering in my ribs.