Danica had deemed the loss of her superhuman senses as good as going deaf and blind but when she woke up, cold and stiff-necked, she was met with a silence and a thick blackness that made her reconsider. The ground was hard and uneven beneath her, not so different from her bed in the Compound for her to notice right away. The air smelled stale and she pushed herself up, automatically reaching up to rub a goose-pimpling arm.

It was the weight around her wrist, not the sudden rattle of the chain, that startled her. Her gaze dropped, though she still couldn’t see, and she lifted the arm again, the limbed weighed down with heavy metal. Instinct made her tug experimentally as she stood, small stones digging into her bare feet. She couldn’t move far before the chains pulled taut and the shackles rubbed uncomfortably over thin skin and bone.

Danica wasn’t the best at waking up and instantly being alert, but it was far from dawning slowly on her that she was chained up.

“Asher?”

Her eyes darted around, ears pricked for anything. When no response came she let out a frustrated growl and tugged on the chains again, wrapping her hands around the links and pulling as hard as she could.

“Asher! Fuck.” She coughed, trying to suppress a shiver that ran up her spine. “Lew?” She hadn’t pegged him for a sordid sexual fantasist. Velcro restraints were more his style, not kidnapping and holding her hostage. No, that was very much…her style. Danica’s own entertainment of choice.


( *** )