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“This is it, Honey. We're here. We made it to Paris.” She exhaled a heavy breath, her muscles relaxing all at once. She looked lighter. Her smile was more delicate and pure. “Come on, let's go set this city on fire.”

“What? No, I don't want to do that,” I said.

“It's just an expression, Honey. It means to live it up, enjoy ourselves, have a blast. We deserve it, don't you think?” my mother asked as she pulled out our carry-on bags from the overhead storage.

“Yeah, I think you're right. I'm ready,” I said.

“Good. Are you hungry? Because I'm starving. Let's start this adventure with a delicious lunch. And then we can do some shopping.”

I was overcome with excitement. Nothing could wipe the smile off my face.

Nothing.

Chapter Three

Poppy

––––––––

Twilight was a weird thing. It was a place in time that felt paused, like you were floating above everything, unaware but still alert. There were fleeting images of blurred faces with flashes of light no brighter than a flickering plane in the sky and voices as quiet as the whisper of dragonfly wings. That was all I could remember in the twilight. But there was more. I knew there was more, even though it escaped me. The memories were like dreams swept away by consciousness after opening your eyes. I could feel them, but I could only grasp the illusion they were there.

I opened my eyes to darkness. For a brief second, I thought I was blind until a thin glow of light appeared near my feet. I tried to lift my arms, but I couldn't. Panic set in, causing my heart to race and my breathing to quicken.

What's going on? What's happening?

I bent and pulled, trying to move my arms and legs. Coarse rope scratched my wrists and ankles. My arms were bound in front of me, and my ankles were tied together. I was still in my dress from the gala, but my heels were gone. The silk fabric was stuck to my damp skin like wet leaves on the pavement. The dress twisted and tightened, suffocating my entire body.

Fuck. Where the hell am I?

I can't breathe!I clawed at my throat as if there was rope around my neck, but all I did was scratch myself. I was going into a state of shock. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I had to calm down. I needed to focus.

My body jostled around as the sound of an engine bled between my ears. As I took another slow breath, I could smell exhaust fumes in the blank space around me. In one explosive burst, I realized I was in the trunk of a car. The tires whirred against the ground. Pebbles popped and crackled as they spit beneath the treads. Each bump rocked my body, causing it to jump up and slam down hard.

Shit. What the hell do I do? What is happening?

I was trying to remember the evening. The night played through my mind. I was at the lobbying event. I had a drink. I remembered Dylan, and instantly, I was angry. Then I remembered being outside and hearing a noise.

Was I fucking kidnapped? Am I'm in the trunk of the kidnapper's car?

When I was a child, we had a safety class in school. A firefighter had come in and told us about not playing in old refrigerators because you could get stuck and run out of air and how if you played in the trunk of a car, the heat could harm you, but that most vehicles had a latch inside in case you got stuck and needed to get out.

The newfound memory ignited a rush of adrenaline. I could do something to help myself. I could escape. I felt around the trunk. My hands glided across the roof and down where it latched shut. My fingers danced across the ridges, tracing and feeling in the darkness. Another bump caused my head to ricochet off the trunk lid. It left me dazed for a moment, but I wouldn't give up. I started feeling around again, more determined to find the emergency pull string.

Got it.

I gave it a hard tug, but it broke free, draping against my palm like a strand of loose hair. I grunted with frustration, punching the roof of the trunk with both hands. “Fuck!” I screamed. “Let me out! Fucking let me out!” I screeched as loudas possible, kicking my legs up and down like a beached fish and slamming my arms. I had lost my mind in an instant. I couldn't control myself at all. I felt enraged. “Let me out of here! Fucking let me out of here, Asshole!” I punched again and again, hitting the trunk as hard as I could.

The car began to slow down. The wheels dragged against the pavement as it veered to a stop. The engine hummed softly, vibrating the metal frame beneath me. I listened intently, waiting.

Time seemed to slow down. The engine's rumble hemmed and hawed between trying to go and trying to stay idle. The sound of a door creaking open startled the silence. I inhaled a quick breath, listening as heavy feet slowly clicked against the ground.

My fingers began picking at the binding, trying to break my arms free. Over and over, I feverishly scratched and pried as the feet moved closer to the back of the car. I twisted my wrists back and forth. The binding burned against my skin, but I didn't care. I needed my hands. The intense need to be free was pushing through the pain.

The binding around my wrists finally broke free. I moved to my ankles, working at the knot in the rope. It was tight, but I was determined to get it off. A key clinked against the lock. My fingers became more frantic as they worked. My ankle binding finally loosened and fell off.

The trunk popped free, allowing cool, fresh air to spill in, filling me with new life. It lifted fast, revealing the outline of a man. I couldn't see his face, just his hands as they burst towards me like tentacles.

I slapped and punched at him, all while screaming as loudly as I could. “Get the fuck away from me! Fuck you! Help! Help!” I had no idea where I was, but instinctively, I yelled for a savior.