Rory opened her eyes and groggily glanced around a large room. Ten strangers watched her like scientists studying a specimen, and although she recognized Mel among them, that did nothing to calm the rising panic starting to build in her chest. It was only when she spotted Micah sitting beside her that felt a little more at ease.
That quickly changed.
She opened her mouth to ask him what she was doing here, but no sound came out. It was as though her voice had been sucked out of her body. The urge to flee filled her, but as she ordered her body to move–nothing happened.
She stared down at her arms and legs. There were no straps holding her to the chair, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t lift her arms or legs. Unable to speak, to scream, to run, she suddenly feared the worst.
“Rory.”
Rory glanced up at the woman in front of her, her brown skin glowing in the spotlight above them. Her hair was twisted in dread above her head, and she reminded Rory of a gypsy.