"Mmhn!" Caleb groaned as he woke up. Coordination still hazy so his head swung from side to side.
The first thing that came back was the smell.
Damp concrete. Cigarette smoke. Something chemical underneath it all that he couldn't place.
Then the weight of his own head.
Caleb came back slowly, the darkness thinning at the edges before his eyes opened properly. Everything was black. Thick and close and pressing against his face.
A bag. There was just a bag over his head.
He didn't move. Just breathed.
Tried to access the situation the way he always did — hands behind him, wrists bound to the chair. Ankles tied to the legs.
The knot at his wrists was tight but not exceptional. Someone had done it quickly and with confidence rather than care.
'Amateur.'
He could feel the cut above his eye from the crash. Dried now.
His neck ached where they'd hit him and his ribs were complaining about something but nothing was serious enough to matter.
