Page 10 of Innocent Prey of the Bratva

I can’t sleep.

My body’s exhausted, but my mind won’t shut up. Every time I close my eyes, I see that note—You took something that doesn’t belong to you—and those cold, unblinking blue eyes.

They’re carved into the back of my skull.

Noelle still isn’t home. Her room is empty. Her bed untouched. I try not to think about where she is or what she does every night. That’s her business. I have enough to worry about.

Like the fact that someone broke into our apartment and stole my camera.

Like the fact that I’malone.

A chill runs through me despite the blanket I’ve wrapped myself in. My fingers grip the edge tightly, knuckles white. I tell myself I’m safe. I have to be. The locks are on. The windows are shut. I triple checked.

Still, my heartbeat won’t slow.

Then—I hear a sharp creak. Like the squeak of a floorboard. From the direction of the living room.

I pause.

It is just my imagination. I’m being paranoid. Yes. There’s no one there. The door is locked. Even if someone breaks in, there’s no way I won’t hear anything. But it’s been very silent in the house.

My consolation almost works until—I hear it again. I freeze.

No.

No, no, no—this is real! I heard it clearly this time!

I sit up slowly, breath caught in my throat, listening. The sound comes again. A footstep. Then another.

They’re here.

Whoever they are—whatever I saw last night—they followed me.

They broke in once. Of course, they could do it again.

I slide off the bed, barefoot, trying not to make a sound. My heart pounds so loud I’m sure it’ll give me away. I step into the hallway and peer around the corner—careful to stay silent and hidden.

I see a man. A bald man. Standing in our goddamn living room like he owns the place. My throat tightens. My scream catches halfway—but I never get the chance to let it out.

A hand clamps down over my mouth from behind, gloved and strong and merciless. I thrash, panic surging like fire in my veins, but another arm snakes around my waist, pinning me in place like I weigh nothing.

I kick. I elbow. I try to bite.

It doesn’t matter.

A blindfold is yanked over my eyes, tying tight. My hands are pulled behind me and bound so fast I can’t even register what’s happening.

“No—please—” I scream through the hand still over my mouth. It’s useless.

I’m dragged. My feet barely touch the ground. I feel cold air, hear a car door swing open—

Then I’m thrown in.

The metal floor of the trunk slams against my side, hard enough to knock the breath out of me. The doors slam shut. Darkness.

I scream. I scream so loud my throat burns, but the car is already moving. I don’t know where they’re taking me. I don’t know why this is happening. I just know I’m going to die.

Or worse.