Instead of the heavy oak beams that crossed Dreo’s bedroom ceiling, every inch of his new location was covered, floor to ceiling, in dark river stone. His body shook with tremors, the floor he was lying on was so cold. Gray felt like he was laying a slab of ice. Taking in his surroundings, or lack thereof, it was safe to assume he was in a basement or some other type of underground storage area. Testing his limbs, he found that although he was a bit stiff, he had regained most of his normal range of motion. His head, on the other hand, was pounding, and his mouth felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of wood chips. Unfortunately, a quick check of his neck showed that he was still wearing his new accessory and the effects of it had given him the worst case of dry mouth he’d ever experienced. He now had one more reason to hate her guts. And to think, he’d always tried to be nice to her and give her the benefit of the doubt, even when everyone else thought she was just a hack. What a bitch!
