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"Please," I whisper, though I know he can't hear me through the partition. "Just don't take me back to them."
Being kidnapped might actually be the safer option. If Raymond finds me with his USB, with what I know about the trafficking operation... I've seen what happens to people who threaten my father's empire and I imagine that it’s the same in Raymond’s too.
I straighten my spine, forcing my breathing to steady. I need to think clearly. This man, whoever he is, hasn't killed me yet. That's something. He seems more annoyed than murderous. I can work with that.
My fingers find my mother's ring again, drawing strength from it. She always told me my mind was my greatest weapon. Time to prove her right.
I watch through the window as we leave the busy streets behind. The upscale neighborhoods with their manicured lawns fade away, replaced by increasingly industrial areas. My stomach tightens as I recognize where we're heading—the warehouse district. Perfect place to make someone disappear.
"Where are you taking me?" I yell, although I know he can't—or won't—answer through the partition.
The car slows as we turn down a desolate street lined with dilapidated warehouses. Broken windows stare like empty eye sockets. Graffiti covers corrugated metal walls. Not a soul in sight.
I scan desperately for anything I could use as a weapon. If I could just reach the pepper spray buried at the bottom of my bag.
The car stops abruptly. Through the tinted windows I spot a black SUV parked ahead. Two men stand beside it, both wearing dark suits, both watching our car with predatory focus.
"No, no, no," I whisper, yanking frantically at the door handle though I know it's locked.
The men approach both sides of the car like coordinated hunters. One reaches for my door handle and the lock clicks open.
The moment the door swings wide I launch myself forward, leg extended in a desperate kick aimed at his chest. But my aim is off—my foot slices through empty air as he sidesteps easily.
"Shit! Grab her!" he shouts.
Rough hands seize my arms, dragging me from the backseat. I thrash wildly, my elbow connecting with something solid.
"Fuck." he curses, his grip tightening painfully.
I open my mouth to scream but before any sound escapes, a damp cloth presses hard against my face. The chemical smell hits my nostrils—sweet, medicinal, overwhelming.
I hold my breath, twisting my head, but his hand follows, pressing the soaked towel firmly against my mouth and nose. My lungs burn. I can't hold out. I gasp involuntarily.
The world immediately begins to swim, buildings tilting at impossible angles. My limbs grow impossibly heavy. I try to fight but my body won't respond.
The last thing I see is the cold blue sky above as darkness creeps in from the edges of my vision, swallowing everything.
CHAPTER 3
My head throbs with each pulse of my heart. I fight to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Something soft presses against my cheek. I'm lying down. Not in a car anymore.
Where am I?
The fog in my brain slowly clears and memory crashes back. The wedding. The escape plan. The kidnapping. The warehouse district. The cloth over my face.
I bolt upright, blood rushing—then immediately regret the sudden movement as nausea rolls through me. I press my palm to my mouth, willing myself not to vomit.
"Stay calm," I whisper to myself. "Assess the situation."
The room swims into focus. I'm on a bed—king-size, with dark gray linen. The walls are navy blue, minimally decorated with abstract art. A sleek dresser stands against one wall. No personal photos. No clutter. Impersonal, like a five-star hotel room.
One door—heavy-looking, probably locked. Two windows with blackout curtains partially drawn, revealing glimpses of night sky. How long was I unconscious?
I swing my legs off the bed, noticing I'm still in my black escape outfit. My shoes are gone but other than that I'm fully dressed. Small mercy.
I push myself to stand, steadying against the nightstand when dizziness threatens to topple me. Whatever they drugged me with hasn't fully cleared my system.
My bag is gone. The USB with evidence against Raymond and my father—gone. My carefully planned escape—destroyed.