Page 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T he van came to a stop. I tensed, and my pulse skyrocketed as I heard muffled voices outside. I stared at Birdie and she back at me.

There hadn’t been enough time to even talk, let alone make any kind of plan.

“Fight for your life,” Birdie whispered, her eyes wide, her body tight like a bow. “Don’t look back. Don’t let them catch you. Be brutal.”

I nodded.

The doors burst open, flooding the space with harsh, artificial light. I squinted, momentarily blinded. I didn’t expect to be parked inside a building.

Birdie wasn’t as affected as I was. She jumped out of the van in an explosion of speed and energy, her battle cry bolting through me like lightning.

The two guys who opened the van were stunned into submission while she flew past them, landed, and ran toward the closing gate at full speed .

I struggled to my feet, ready to follow her, and played on the chaos she created.

I jumped out, and my field of vision narrowed to Birdie’s backside. I stumbled but caught myself and sprinted after her.

The gate was slowly but surely closing.

Too far—shit. I got cracking and picked up speed. I would make it through that gate if it was the last thing I did.

The gap was getting smaller and smaller.

Birdie did an impressive sliding motion and slipped right through.

Almost there.

I dove headfirst but sensed someone grabbing me and dodged to the side.

For a split second, I thought I could make it.

Until I was pulled back by rough hands clamping around my arms and my torso.

I flung back, suspended in midair.

I kicked, screamed, and tried to get some kind of leverage.

In vain.

I watched the gate close with a final thud. And all the fight drained from my body.

This was my one chance to escape—gone.

Whoever had caught me, put me back on my feet. “Move,” a gruff voice commanded, shoving me back toward the van.

I stumbled, slightly dizzy. I suddenly became aware of my breath, sawing in and out .

I caught a glimpse of Isa, Mira, and Milli being carried in different directions, and my legs went weak. What would they do with us?

Then a hood was placed over my head, and I was doused in darkness.

I flinched—not that it helped, and my stomach was suddenly rock hard while my knees barely kept me upright.

My heartbeat thrashed in my ears. Without the ability to see what was going on around me, the situation suddenly became ten times scarier. I whimpered, barely holding myself together. Oh my God. Was this it? What would happen now? I could feel the panic rising in my body like hot lava rising up a volcano, ready to erupt and bury me. I took a deep breath and focused on the scent, which was a mixture of antiseptics and something I couldn’t quite place. Were we at a hospital?

Someone urged me to walk, and hands gripped my arms, tight like shackles.

The floor was cold beneath my feet as I was marched forward, my captor’s grip tight on my arms.

I tried to focus, to memorize the route we were taking. Two rights, then a left. The echo of our footsteps suggested we were in some kind of corridor or tunnel. The air grew cooler, damper.

Not a hospital then.

I was suddenly lifted into the air, carried somewhere—up the stairs?

My mind raced. Who were these people? What did they want with us? Did Vince already know we’d been taken? Would he come for us? Would he even find us ?

At least Birdie got out…if there wasn’t security outside. Please let her make it.

Suddenly, we stopped. I heard the beep of a keypad, then the hiss of a door sliding open. The hands on my arms propelled me forward once more.

“Sit,” the voice ordered as I was pushed down onto what felt like a metal chair. They cut the zip-ties, released my wrists, and the sudden increase in blood flow made my wrists throb. Instinctually, I rubbed the skin, somehow too exhausted to fight.

Wait. I lifted the hood off my head. I blinked rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of what appeared to be a completely white room without any windows and white, glossy walls.

I turned my head and looked at two men in a black tactical uniform, their faces obscured by masks.

“Welcome, Mrs. Salvini,” one of them said, his tone mockingly polite. “We need you to stay put for a little while.” With that, they turned around and exited the room. The door hissed closed, building a perfect seal in the white, glossy wall.

What on earth was this place?

I got up and reached out to touch the wall nearest to me. The surface was unnervingly smooth, almost frictionless under my fingertips. No matter how carefully I explored, I couldn’t detect any seams or edges; even the floor was white and from the same material and smoothly transitioned into the walls. It was as if the entire room had been molded from a single piece of material.

The lighting was equally disconcerting. It seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once, casting no shadows. The effect was disorienting, making it difficult to gauge the room’s true dimensions.

Even the damn chair was white.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice sounding flat and lifeless in the space. The lack of echo was unsettling. I went silent and listened. There was no ambient sound at all—no hum of electronics, no whisper of air conditioning.

Nothing.

I moved around the room, searching frantically for any feature or flaw, anything that might give me a clue about where I was or how to get out. But every surface was the same featureless white like the inside of an egg.

I sat down for a while, then got back up. Time became impossible to track in this unchanging environment. I paced back and forth, trying to keep my mind focused and alert. But the monotony was wearing on me. I sat down, then stood up again, then sat once more, the unrelenting whiteness beginning to play tricks on my eyes.

I closed my eyes, but the whiteness seemed to penetrate my eyelids, leaving after-images dancing in the darkness.

What the fuck was this high-tech shit?

All of this didn’t feel like it would be something Alfredo Salvini would use. Isa told me he was old-school, not open to new ways at all. So his holding place of choice would’ve been an old warehouse, not this high-tech, whatever, right?

But then again, maybe whoever he hired for the job was into this.

But then, who were these people? What did they want with us? How had they known about the convoy? I tried to recall details from the attack, but the memories seemed to slip away in this blank space like I was trying to hold onto water.