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I pull my arms free and lunge at the first man, scratching at his face.
If they’re going to kill me, I need their DNA all over me. Christian needs to be able to find them and get revenge. He’ll never be okay if he doesn’t.
Even as terror grips my heart, making it race, I keep trying to fight.
I drag my nails down the man’s face as he pulls out his gun. The scratches on his face trickle with blood as he slams the pistol onto the side of my head.
The world goes fuzzy before fading to black.
When I come to, I’m cold, and my head pounds.
My vision spins as I look at the metal bars in front of me and the cot to my right. There is no window or another door.
Wherever I am, I’m trapped. There won’t be any getting out until whoever took me comes to finish the job.
My heart pounds, and bile rises in my throat.
I turn to the corner where there’s a little bucket. As soon as I spot it, I crouch down, the contents of my stomach coming up.
With a groan, I lean back against the cold wall and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
There is only a wall on the other side of my cell door.
Though I don’t know where I am, I’m surprised that I’m alive. I thought the men were going to kill me.
All I can do now is hope that Christian gets here in time to keep me that way.
He’s going to notice that there’s something wrong when he calls tonight, and I don’t answer. Or when the security team starts to think that I’ve been gone too long.
Maybe Camila will get to the house first and find me missing.
Either way, Christian is going to find out I’m gone and he’s going to find a way to save me. He’s coming for me.
I know he is.
Footsteps echo in the hallway.
The dim light shining overhead casts the shadow of a person on the wall opposite me. The person comes into view and tears spring into my eyes.
My pulse races as I look at my dad.
“Daddy. Thank god, you’re here?” I swallow a sob that threatens to surface. I stagger to my feet even though my entire body hurts. I’m sure that even my bruises have bruises. “Can you open this door now, please?”
Dad looks down at the ground, exhaling slowly.
When he looks up at me, there is only a distant expression on his face. It’s as if he’s seeing through me rather than looking at me.
He sighs and leans against the wall, crossing his arms.
“Dad?” Why is he acting like this?
“Go ahead, Jeremiah,” a man says as he appears beside my dad. He’s the man I slammed my head into. There are purple bruises beneath his eyes and a bandage on his nose. “Tell your daughter why I had to go and get her tonight. Tell her what you did.”
I look between the two of them, my eyebrows knitting together.
The man laughs and shakes his head.
Dad seems to shrink in on himself, but he keeps quiet.
