MARIA POV
My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, the bitter taste of old tequila clinging to the back of my throat. My head throbbed, every pulse of pain like a hammer striking my skull. Worse than that, my wrists and ankles ached as if they were bruised, the skin raw and tender. For a few seconds, I tried to ignore it, wishing I could just roll over and bury myself under my comforter. But something was wrong—really wrong.
Then it hit me.
I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t in my room.
I blinked my eyes open, groggy and disoriented. The world around me was unfamiliar a blur at first—gray leather seats, darkened windows, the faint hum of tires against the road. A car. I was in a car. The ceiling was tan, the faint smell of air freshener , sikly sweet, mixed with sweat and cigaret
