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“Your Highness.” The officer bowed his head slightly before departing.
“Nicole, I will find you,” he vowed silently.
Chapter Eleven
Nicole’s mind struggled to wake, her head pounding. The world was darkness and muffled sounds, the claustrophobic space around her suffocatingly close. A rag gagged her cries as she willed her thoughts to make sense. She struggled to free her wrists from the ropes that were tying them tightly together behind her back.
The memory surged forth unbidden—Theodore crumpled like a puppet without strings. She could still hear the sickening thud of his body hitting the ground, the finality of it echoing in her skull.
“Think, Nicole,” she scolded herself internally. “You must think!”
Amidst the chaos of her thoughts, an echo of the past whispered. Once, she’d seen on a television show to kick out the tail lights if she was ever trapped in the trunk of a car, and she was certain that’s where she found herself. If she could get a foot out there, then people would know she was trapped. There was also a good chance the car would be pulled over for lack of tail lights.
With a surge of determination, Nicole contorted her body, angling her legs toward the car’s rear. Each kick was a plea, a silent scream for salvation. The first blow and she felt something shatter. Another kick, harder this time, and the light was no more. She prayed fervently that someone, anyone, would witness the breaking of the tail light.
“Come on,” she coaxed herself, her breaths short and frantic. Her heart beat wildly to the point it was almost painful. “Someone must see. Someone must!”
The car hummed and rattled over uneven terrain, indifferent to the turmoil within its metal belly. Yet even as despair loomed, Nicole clung to her unwavering loyalty to Theodore. With every jolt and jerk of the vehicle, she kicked again and again, until her legs ached and her hope frayed at the edges.
“Please,” she whispered through the fabric stifling her voice. “Let this not be in vain.”
The incessant rumble of the car’s engine ceased, jolting Nicole from her dreams of rescue. The trunk lid swung open, flooding her cramped prison with blinding daylight. Rough hands grabbed her, dragging her out into the chill of early morning. Her senses, already heightened by fear and adrenaline, registered the scent of dew-laden grass and the distant cawing of a crow. She blinked against the light, realizing only then that they were surrounded by the countryside.
“Move,” grunted one of her captors, a silhouette against the sun.
Nicole stumbled forward, her bound hands rendering her balance precarious. The farmhouse loomed ahead, its windows like unseeing eyes, its wooden facade a mask of serenity directly opposite of the fevered pounding of her heart. As she crossed the threshold, the musty scent of disuse hit her—a stark contrast to the crisp outside air.
“Upstairs,” commanded the voice again, and she obeyed, each step a silent testament to her resolve. In her mind, Theodore’s face emerged, his features wrought with the pain of betrayal, igniting a fierce determination within her. She had no idea if Theodore was dead or alive, but she vowed to endure this so she could get back to him.
The room they thrust her into was sparse, the furniture minimal and aged. One of the men produced a knife, the blade glinting ominously, and for a heart-stopping moment, Nicole feared the worst. But then, he merely sawed through the ropes around her wrists, freeing her hands with a careless flick of his wrist.
“Stay here. Try anything funny, and it’ll be the last thing you do,” he said, his tone flat but threatening. The door slammed shut, and the click of the lock resounded like a gavel, sealing her fate.
Nicole rubbed her sore wrists. She paced the perimeter of her cell, each measured step a quiet rebellion against her captors’ expectations of docility. A surge of indignation rose within her. She was anything but a damsel in distress. She was Nicole, and she was strong.
“Think, Nicole,” she muttered to herself. “There has to be a way out of this.” Her gaze flitted about the room, calculating, and analyzing, but found nothing immediately useful.
She settled on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking under her weight. A tattered quilt lay folded at the foot, the colors faded over time.
“Patience,” she breathed, closing her eyes briefly. “Patience and opportunity.”
In the stillness of the locked room, Nicole’s thoughts churned. She couldn’t allow despair to take root, not when so much depended on her. With each passing second, her mind worked tirelessly, weaving and reweaving plans of escape.
Nicole approached the window with hesitant steps. A soft breeze caressed her face as she peered through the dirt-smudged glass, searching the landscape for a sliver of recognition. Green rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted with clusters of woodland and the occasional farmhouse.
“Come on, Nicole,” she whispered to herself, her breath fogging the pane. “There must be something... anything.”
But no landmark called out to her, no feature sparked a memory that could guide her home. The countryside held its secrets close, wrapped in the verdant embrace of nature. And there, standing at the window, Nicole felt a pang of isolation pierce her resolve. She pressed a hand against the cool glass, fingertips tracing the outline of distant trees.
“Think, Nicole, think!” Her voice broke the silence, sharper than she intended. “Theodore is counting on you.”
She turned away from the window, her heart heavy with the weight of duty. How could she devise a plan without knowing where she was? She needed a map, a sign, anything to orient herself in this pastoral prison.
“Phone...” she muttered, reaching instinctively into her pocket. But her fingers met only fabric. Her phone was gone. The thieves had been thorough, stripping her of not only her freedom but her lifeline to the outside world.
“Of course they took it,” Nicole chided herself, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “They’re criminals, not fools.”
Her mind raced, grasping at the edges of her situation, trying to find leverage in a room devoid of technology.
