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Moments later, Joyce and I sat side by side in the car as it drove away from Angelo’s. Nathan had left a few minutes before us. I watched the Gothic mansion disappear as I wondered how I could get rid of her so I could go to a baby store. I knew I couldn’t wait another day to tell Vander. The news was already bubbling up inside me.
We’d driven in silence on the way over, and I expected it to be the same, but I wasn’t that lucky. “You know I’ve never liked you.”
My mouth popped open in surprise as I turned my head to look at Joyce. Yes, I did know that. But I couldn’t believe she was saying it out loud.
“I tried to convince Mitchell not to marry you.” She spoke as if we were discussing the weather. But I wasn’t calm. Each rock of the car on the dirt road sent my nerves jangling. “I wanted him to have a nice girl. From a family who understood what we were. ‘She’s too soft,’ I told him. I was wrong. I can admit that.”
Her words seemed like maybe she was forming an apology, but the way she wouldn’t look at me. The way she smoothed down the wrinkles in her dress set me on edge.
“After all, you survived when he didn’t.” Her eyes sliced to me, and the rage in them sent me back. My shoulder hit the door as I tried to put space between us.
“I-I lost a lot that day.” I needed to explain because she looked at me like it was my fault. As if I was the one who had Mitchell killed.
Her laugh made my teeth clench together. “You seem to be in the same position as you were before. Married to the head of the family. How did you manage to get Vander under your spell?”
“Under my spell? I’m not a witch.” What the fuck was happening?
My gaze flicked to Mike behind the driver’s seat, but he stared straight ahead. He had to hear what we were saying. It was a small car. But he wasn’t reacting.
As I glanced up at him, I noticed the scenery out the windshield. I realized I didn’t know where we were. We hadn’t taken the route back to the city. Instead, we were going down a deserted dirt road. Trees lined either side of the street without a house or sign in sight. All that was up ahead was an old silver car parked on the curb like it had broken down.
“Where are we going?” I asked, but neither spoke. I leaned forward in my seat, grabbing the driver’s headrest. “Mike, wh—.”
My words cut off on a whimper. A sharp pain pierced my neck. I whipped around, my hands flying, but Joyce was already gone. My fingers pressed into the sore spot, and that’s when I saw the needle in her grasp.
“Wh-what did you do?” My vision blurred as she slipped it back into her expensive pink bag.
Panic seized my lungs. What had she given me? Would it hurt my baby?
My stomach revolted, twisting and turning. My eyes grew heavy. My only thought was of my baby. I had to get out of here. I didn’t know what was going on, but I didn’t want to find out.
My hand felt weird. Weighted like it wasn’t connected to my body. Sweat broke out on my skin. A whimper pulled from my chest, but I willed myself to keep moving. To fight.
My fingers curled around the door handle. I pushed. Shoved. Yanked. But either my movements were slow, or the child lock was engaged. I wasn’t sure. Everything in my vision spun as I tried to fumble with the latch.
I felt the harsh plastic as I slumped against the door.
Let me out!
I think I shouted, but maybe it was only in my head. It was foggy. My brain knocked around in my skull as I clawed at the plastic. Suddenly, it gave way. Hope filled my chest.
But it was short-lived as Mike caught me. He’d let me out. I had done nothing. He hauled me up with his hands under my armpits, pulling me from the car. My flats dragged along the dirt, flipping off into the abandoned street.
Terror wrapped its sharp talons around my heart, piercing it. Tears pooled in my lashes as the feeling overwhelmed me.
I attempted to make my limbs move. Tried to jerk away. Push him. Punch him. Anything. But I was limp, a rag doll in his arms.
My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Oh, god, the baby. Panic made it worse, circling my throat and squeezing. I needed to breathe. The baby needed me to breathe.
Struggling, I sucked oxygen into my lungs as he lifted me into the backseat of the waiting car. Trackers. That’s why they moved me. Vander had trackers on all his cars. And phones.
That thought filled me with comfort. Vander would come for me. He’d see my phone moving in a strange direction, in an unfamiliar car, and he’d come.
I didn’t feel the cloth seats as Mike lifted my legs, shoving them next to me so I was lying across the seat. But I felt his warm hands as they slid up my thighs.
“No.” I whimpered, trying to shake him off, but all I managed was a weak twitch of my body.
“It’s not personal.” His indifference made my spine tense as he pulled the phone from my back pocket.
