The headache intensified as my wolf kept whining. She'd been shut out for too long, and she'd been dying to take a breath.
Figuratively speaking because she couldn't come out and take over. Not now.
The room they'd put me in was right out of every interrogation room I'd ever seen in movies—grey tiles, a slightly lighter grey for the walls, a metal table with big cuffs attached to it, cuffs that were wrapped around my wrists —except these were spelled, too. They were spelled to prevent the user from using magic to set themselves free. Not that I could do something like that, no matter that people kept telling me I was a witch.
I'd been in there for the past hour, if my calculations were correct. I had to pee badly, but nobody gave a damn. I tried to call out to the people guarding the door—five of them, believe it or not, and they weren't even wearing uniforms. What the hell did they think I'd do, anyway?
And where the hell was Red and Amara? How had I ended up in that place?
