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Paris barges past her daughter and skips up the stairs, leaving Ember to slam her hand into my back once again. “Move.”
For fuck’s sake. How did such a good night turn into such a disaster? Though, it’s not like we weren’t expecting something to happen. We knew a big party would draw her out but we figured that she’d try to make a show in front of the whole organization. Cornering me in the bathroom with a fucking bomb didn’t cross my mind, though it should have.
I get going, moving up the stairs one at a time, making a show of being cautious in my heels and going irritatingly slow in hopes that the boys will come to their senses and come to find me, but so far, not enough time has passed to alarm them.
“Quit the fucking act,” Ember spits at my back. “You’re not fooling anyone. Move your ass up the goddamn stairs.”
I roll my eyes and pick up my pace, but I’m not stupid. I take my time and in doing so, earn the best kind of irritated groans out of Ember.
We hit the top step and I take a quick look around, finding an old storage room that looks as though it hasn’t seen the light of day in years.
Paris grins wide as Ember climbs up onto a ledge and opens a small window that brings us back up into the real world, where no doubt they would have some kind of getaway car. “I hope you’re ready to die,” Paris laughs as Ember disappears through the window. She holds up the phone as though I’d already forgotten about her stupid bomb threat. “Your turn,” she says. “And make it quick or else they will all pay for your stupidity.”
I narrow my gaze, wanting nothing more than to strangle the bitch, but over the last thirty seconds, absolutely nothing has changed. Their lives are more important than mine, and with that in mind, I turn and start walking for the ledge.
My foot props up onto the ledge and I wobble, not having the ability to grasp anything with my hands bound at my back to help me up. I glance at Paris and indicate down at my hands. “How do you suppose that I do this?”
Paris looks at me like a dirty stain on a perfectly white dress. “Not my problem. Figure it out.”
Shit.
Letting out a sigh, I climb up through the window, using the wall as leverage against my shoulder before folding my chest through the window and wriggling myself through. Everything hurts and I’m ashamed to say that in getting myself out the window, I flash everything that I’ve got with this stupid hip-high slit, though I won’t be sorry. It was worth it for the better part of the night.
My hands press against the pavement and I push myself up through the window, coming out on the other side to feel the cool evening breeze against my skin. I quickly realize that we’re in the backstreets of the building that the grand ballroom was built under and that there’s not a damn soul in sight. Only an hour ago there would have been people everywhere, but now they’re all inside the party having the time of their lives, completely unaware that their leader has just been kidnapped by a crazy, psychotic bitch.
Paris comes out a moment later, and before I get the chance to kick her in the face as she crawls up through the window, Ember is at my wrists yanking me back. Paris gets to her feet and all too quickly, we’re sprinting through the backstreets and heading around a corner to a narrow alleyway where an old black van has been parked.
Paris tears open the back door and Ember wastes no time throwing me inside, making sure to release my wrists at the last possible second so that I have absolutely no way of breaking my fall.
I land on my side with a heavy bang, the hard floor of the van only making things worse. My face squishes against the dirty ground and just as I’m able to raise it and look back out through the back door for an escape, it’s slammed shut, closing me in.
“Ahhh, fuck,” I mutter, pulling on my bound wrists and attempting to sit myself up. The windows are blacked out and without a shred of sunlight coming in through the windshield, it’s nearly impossible to see anything.
I get up onto my knees just as Ember and Paris come flying in through the side doors, Paris dropping down into the driver’s seat as Ember takes the space beside her, slamming her door closed with such ferocity that the whole van shakes.
Ember glances back at me, laughing as Paris jams the key into the ignition and brings the van to life. “You look like a fucking whore in that dress,” she says as Paris hits the gas, sending me flying back in the van, my hip slamming into the wheel hub and ripping the slit in my dress even higher. “Point proven,” she laughs.
