The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, suffocating, clinging to her skin. Rose's eyes fluttered open, lashes damp with sweat.
The world around her was dark, but not completely—moonlight filtered through the cracks in the walls, casting long, eerie shadows over the carnage.
Her nose scrunched at the overwhelming stench, and instinctively, she pressed a hand to the cold, damp floor, only to feel the slickness of fresh blood seeping between her fingers.
A shudder ran through her. Slowly, she blinked, trying to steady her breathing, trying to understand why her body felt so heavy. And then—memories surged back like a tidal wave. The fight. The fear. The blood. The killing.
