MATTEO'S POV
The first thing I felt was the cold.
It clung to my skin like frostbite, numbing my arms and legs before I could even feel the pain. My eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead, and when I finally managed to peel them open, the world was a blur. Dim light filtered through cracked windows, painting dusty beams across a concrete floor littered with rusted tools and broken crates. The scent of mildew and disinfectant filled my nostrils, sharp and sterile against the grime of the space. A warehouse, or maybe an old industrial building. Definitely abandoned. Definitely not my club.
My throat burned. Breathing was shallow, mechanical. Tubes snaked from my arms, an IV drip to my left, something thicker strapped across my chest. Monitors beeped in soft, irregular intervals. My muscles screamed when I tried to shift. I was restrained. Of course I was.
A chair scraped against the ground.
I blinked rapidly until my vision sharpened. And then I saw him.
Aleksandr.