Scarlett’s mom had always warned Scarlett about the dangers of drugs, beginning when she was young. Now she understood—by the Goddess herself, did Scarlett feel like sh*t.
She had woken to find herself alone in a bedroom, lying on a rather sparse bed with a nightstand and an oil lamp, of all things. There was even a stack of food and a can opener. It seemed to be part of a cabin, a bit like the ones the omega soldiers used in the winter.
And, as she surveyed her surroundings, she felt maybe just a touch feral for being forced into this situation. She felt angry enough to hurt, even kill, her kidnappers. They had made a mistake letting her live.
That was another thing. Why was she alive? She was a nobody, so why would they go to the trouble of drugging her and taking her here?
