I must have passed out on the way to the car because when I wake up, I’m in a dark, confined space. The sound of an engine hums beneath my ear and it only takes me a few seconds to work out I’m in the trunk of a car.
My stomach revolts at the movement, but I manage to swallow it down. Jesus. No wonder I never drank before tonight. It’s not worth it when you wake up feeling like death warmed up. But then again, I suppose most people don’t awake to being abducted, beaten, and shoved in the trunk of a car after a night of heavy drinking, so I guess this is a unique situation.
The intense ache in my back and ribs only seems to grow deeper the longer I spend curled up, but I have no way to tell how much time has passed or where we’re going. And even when I get out of here, there’s a good chance I won’t know where I am because up until two months ago, I’d never left the state I was born and raised in.
I fumble around me for something, anything, I can use as a weapon, but it’s just me in here. Whoever took me was smart enough to clean out the trunk first, I’ll give them that. But it’s also probably not their first rodeo. And even if I could find a weapon, I’m in no state to try to get away from them, and if by some miracle I was able to, where the fuck am I going to go? I don’t have anyone I can call. I can’t call my family, they’ll just tell my captors where I am. I can’t call Storm or any of the Saint James family, not after what he said to me.
The sad reality of my life is, I have no one.
The car slows to a stop before I can allow myself to spiral and then what sounds a lot like an elevator churns around us. But that’s not possible… is it?
I listen closely as the movement stops, and a few seconds later, we’re moving forward again. Where the fuck are we? Voices surround the car and I brace myself for whatever is going to come next. Fear courses through my veins like a wildfire spreading to each of my limbs. I’m going to die, or I’m going to be sold into a life of misery. Honestly, I’m not sure which of the two I would prefer at this point.
At least if I died, I wouldn’t have to live through unthinkable things. I would finally be at peace. There would be no more pain, no more heartbreak. Just whatever the afterlife has to offer. But am I really ready to meet my maker at eighteen? I haven’t lived. I haven’t graduated, gotten married, or had babies. The life I imagined for myself is still such a long way away. Am I ready to give up on that?
The trunk pops open and blinding light fills my vision. The mixture of being in the dark for god knows how long and the pounding in my head from the vodka makes me shy away from the light, but before I can move, large hands wrap harshly around my torso and lift me from the car.
I wince when his fingers dig into what I imagine is my very bruised stomach, but don’t make a sound. I don’t need to have been kidnapped before to know the more I fight, the worse it’s going to be for me. If I’m well-behaved, maybe there will be a chance for me to run.
I can barely force my eyes open as each of the man’s steps causes agony to run through my body. Have I ever been in this much pain? Surely I haven’t. Surely if I had, I would remember it because this doesn’t seem like something I’m going to forget anytime soon.
I manage to catch sight of a bunch of black SUVs, the same ones that Storm and I were surrounded by when we went to get my stuff from my parents’ apartment. Which means it’s Annalise behind this. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. She has nothing to gain from taking me now. Storm doesn’t care about me. He’s not going to put himself or his family in danger to save someone he doesn’t give two shits about. So why would she go to so much effort to take me?
I don’t have time to ponder that question for long before I’m hauled into a room and harshly dropped to the hard concrete floor with little regard for my existing injuries.
“Frank!” a female voice hisses. “He’s not going to like it if she’s bruised up.”
“The little cunt threw up on me. She’s already covered in bruises.”
Deathly silence surrounds us and I peek up at the woman in question. Annalise glares at the man with anger in her deep blue eyes. In fact, she looks fucking furious, and I can’t quite work out why. Wouldn’t bruises be normal in a kidnapping? I think you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who is going to go willingly, so they’re bound to have some kind of marks. “Frank.” Her voice is low and menacing. “What part of take her without any harm coming to her pretty head did you not understand?”
“What else was I meant to do?” he asks incredulously.
“Not fucking beat her, you idiot.”
I flinch at the harshness of her tone despite the fact I tend to agree with her. But then again, if I wasn’t injured, I would probably be trying like hell to escape, and something tells me she wouldn’t like that much either.
Heels click across the concrete, the sound getting louder as she approaches me, but I avert my gaze like it will hurt me to look directly at her. And hell, it might. What’s that saying about looking the devil in the eye.
“Are you hurt, Ayvah?” she asks, her voice softening as she squats down beside me and brushes my brown locks from my eyes.
I nod, not trusting my voice not to break.
She lets out a frustrated sigh and glares at the man hovering behind me. “You can go. You’ve done enough and if you remain here, I’m concerned I might put a bullet through your brain just to confirm you actually fucking have one.”
Footsteps retreat and I allow myself to relax slightly. I’m under no preconceptions about Annalise and what she could do to me, but I haven’t thrown up on her so I doubt it’s going to include a beating as long as I don’t mouth off, which I have no intention of doing.
“You’re a bit of a mess, dear.”
I finally brave looking up into her cold eyes and hold her gaze. “It’s been a rough… actually I don’t know how long it’s been.”
She lets out a small laugh and looks over my face. “At least he didn’t hurt your face. That should make him a little happier?”
“Him?” I ask.
“Yes, your buyer, of course. I told you about him that day in the bathroom.”
I blanch at the thought. “Storm sent me away. He doesn’t feel anything toward me. Why are you doing this?”
A laugh fills the cold, dank room, and she shakes her head. “Oh, Ayvah. You think this is about Storm?” She shakes her head. “He’s insignificant compared to the man you belong to now.”
