The hemp rope was a stubborn, biting thing, its fibers rough against Kai’s raw skin. But Irusha’s fingers, though trembling violently, were relentless. She picked at the knot with frantic determination, her nails digging into the tight weave, chipping against the hard wood of the chair.

Kai could feel her breath hitching in short, terrified gasps against his neck. He could feel the heat of her body radiating behind him—a stark, living contrast to the cold, dead atmosphere of the bungalow.