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quick glance around the room, she acknowledged that she was
    some place unknown. After years of working private security, waking up in strange places—while not
    exactly common—wasn’t too much of a surprise. If she could just calm the pounding in her head, she
    could start figuring out what she needed to do next.
    Her symptoms of headache, slight nausea, and dehydration all pointed to a hangover. But she was one
    of those unfortunate people who remembered everything when she was drunk, and right now, she had no
    bloody idea how she’d got here, meaning the only explanation for her current state was that she’d been
    drugged.
    Drugged. The word triggered a memory, and the face of Kiarra Melini’s brother danced in front of her
    eyes, showing him right before he’d emptied the syringe of rowanberry juice into her arm.
    Despite incredible odds, the man had told her the truth and hadn’t killed her with an overdose after all.
    She wondered where Kiarra’s posh younger brother had learned that little trick.
    Millie rubbed her face again, and tried to clear her mind. She’d worry about the play of events later,
    after she’d escaped and found a way to contact her brother Jaxton and let him know that she was okay. She
    only hoped that he hadn’t done something daft, like storm into an AMT compound and demand answers.
    From what she’d seen, Kiarra Melini might’ve been able to drill some sense into Jaxton’s thick head and
    stop him.
    Unsure of how much time she had remaining until someone came to check on her, Millie lowered her hands from her face and looked around the unfamiliar room that smelled faintly of dust and brine. There
    was a bed, a small table, and a chair. The wall was bare except for a square window no more than a foot
    across, covered by a dark blue curtain.
    Gritting her teeth against the pain in her head, she threw the blankets off and walked to the window.
    Just in case there was a guard posted outside, she moved the curtain just a fraction to peek out.
    To her right, there were jagged mountains in the distance, framed by a bright blue sky, but as she looked
    up, she saw that her room was only a few feet from a rock face that went up past her line of sight. To the left, she spotted low-lying vegetation and a few scattered trees. Everything on the ground was a bright shade of green.
    She let go of the curtain and plopped back down onto the bed. Through the process of elimination,
    Millie knew she was no longer in Scotland, or anywhere in the UK for that matter—the mountains and
    vegetation were all wrong. The shape of the mountains, the vegetation, the faint smell of the sea, and the coolness in the air despite it being summer meant she was probably somewhere in Scandinavia, either near
    the coast or on a small island.
    But how? The last thing she remembered was being interrogated and strapped to a table. She raised a
    hand to her face, but the tenderness and swelling from her earlier beating was nearly gone, which meant
    she’d been unconscious for at least a few days.
    Remembering Mr. Fist-Bastard, her first interrogator, brought back other memories, specifically of
    Kiarra’s nameless brother.
    He was the one who’d drugged her with diluted rowanberry juice, or so he’d claimed. He’d tried to tell
    her via small bits of masking tape on the syringe to pretend the stuff was real since the amount, in full
    strength, would’ve caused an overdose and her death. His words had hinted at her freedom, but while she
    was no longer in the research facility, this was not quite her idea of freedom.
    She’d broken out of impossible situations before, and she could do it again. All she needed to do was
    find out who or what was guarding her, before formulating the next steps in her plan—namely finding a
    weapon and some money. A fake or stolen EU driver’s license would also make crossing the UK border
    easier.
    Looking down at her clothes, she added less conspicuous clothing to her list of items