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A sob rips from my throat, muffled by the gag.
How the hell did things go so wrong so quickly?
In the movies, the victim always sees the van pulling up. They always have time to scream. To fight. To draw attention. It shouldn’t go down like this. It shouldn’t just happen quietly in the span of a few seconds.
If I had just had time to scream, Jace would’ve heard me.
Regret washes over me, and I thump my forehead against the floor.
Jace. How long before he figures out that I’m not in the restroom? How long before he finds the street where I was taken? Is there even something back there to find? Some kind of clue that will help him figure out that I’ve been kidnapped?
Another wave of regret crashes over me. It’s mixed with anger and fear and desperation. Those feelings swirl inside my mind, pulling at me until I feel like I’m drowning in a cold black sea. The car keeps driving, taking me farther and farther away from any chance of a quick rescue.
Something between a snarl of rage and a sob of panic rips from my lungs, and I thump my forehead against the floor again.
This isn’t even supposed to happen! People don’t just get kidnapped. I don’t get kidnapped. This?—
The car stops.
Because of the anger and fear, I have no idea how much time has passed since I was thrown in the trunk.
I twist my head, listening intently as car doors are once more opened and closed.
Then fresh air whooshes over me as the trunk is popped open as well.
My heart hammers against my ribs. Craning my neck, I try to see something, anything, through the blindfold. But it’s impossible.
I suck in a sharp breath through my nose as someone grabs me and lifts me up.
Since I know that we’re still outside, I immediately start trying to scream through the gag and wiggle my way free again.
The guy just throws me over his shoulder, as if I’m no more challenging than a weak child, and starts walking.
Behind me, the trunk is slammed shut again. I strain my ears for any clues as to where I have been taken, but I can barely hear anything over the loud pounding of my own heart.
I should never have left the café. I should’ve stayed home tonight. I should’ve?—
A door is opened.
The soft winds disappear, which means that we must have moved indoors. Footsteps sound on the floor as my captors continue walking across whatever room we’re in. Then another door is opened.
Dread spikes through me as we suddenly start down a set of steps.
Oh God. Are they taking me to some kind of torture chamber?
Does that actually happen? I thought people didn’t get kidnapped except in movies, but apparently they do, so maybe the torture basements are real too.
I suck in shuddering breaths through my nose as the guy carrying me sets me down on a cold stone floor. I try to crawl away, but barely manage to wiggle.
Shock clangs through me as someone suddenly cuts the zip ties from my ankles. Yanking my legs back down, I roll over and get into a kneeling position. But before I can get to my feet, I feel the barrel of a gun against my forehead.
I stop moving immediately.
My heart slams against my ribs and blood rushes in my ears.
But one of the other men just cuts off the zip ties around my wrists too and then moves me until I’m sitting on the floor with my back against the wall instead. The gun stays at my forehead while my captors grab my wrists and raise them above my head.
Metallic clicks echo through the room as my wrists are handcuffed to the wall above my head.
