Oh, God. This is bad. I’m shackled, half-clothed, and at the mercy of a monster I have no business being alone with in a dark garage. I can’t see anything—not even his outline, let alone his expression or the weapon he fired just moments ago. I can’t study the intent in his eyes or predict his next move. Curse my stupid habit of romanticizing everything. Darkness isn’t freeing. It just makes you vulnerable. Panic chews away at my edges, and when I can no longer stand its bite, I choke out a desperate breath. “Y-you’re scaring me.”
