Page 3

THREE

Ember

Journey into Darkness

Pain. Throbbing, relentless pain pulses through my skull. The world spins in a kaleidoscope of darkness and muffled sounds. I try to move, but my limbs feel like lead. Something rough bites into my wrists. Zip Ties?

My eyes flutter open, and a stabbing headache immediately assaults me. Shadows dance across metal walls. The floor vibrates beneath me, and an engine’s low hum rumbles in my bones.

A van. We’re in a van.

Memory floods back in jagged pieces. The street corner. My candles. Aria Holbrook. Masked men.

Oh God.

Aria.

I blink hard, forcing my vision to focus. She’s there, a crumpled form beside me. Blonde hair matted with sweat, designer clothes rumpled and torn. Her chest rises and falls in shallow breaths.

At least she’s alive.

Unlike the sidewalk, the van has no biting wind, but the air is thick and heavy with the stench of sweat and fear. My fear. Aria’s too. Our captors reek a vile, offensive odor that clogs the air. It coats my tongue with a bitter stench, making me want to wretch.

I need to think. Need to find a way out of this. But the van’s motion and the lingering effects of whatever they drugged me with make concentration impossible.

A soft whimper breaks through the engine’s low drone. Aria stirs, eyelids fluttering.

Suddenly, her eyes snap wide open. A strangled scream rips from her throat as she thrashes violently, her bound limbs slamming against the metal floor.

“Let me go!” she shrieks, twisting and bucking, causing trouble. “Help! Somebody help us!”

“Shut her up.” A gruff voice barks from the front.

Heavy footsteps approach. A burly man looms over us, face hidden behind a ski mask. Without warning, his boot connects with Aria’s ribs. She lets out a choked gasp, curling into herself.

I lunge forward, trying to shield her. Yes, it’s a stupid move. No, I don’t care about the consequences.

“Leave her alone.” Pain explodes in my gut as the man’s foot slams into my stomach. Stars burst behind my eyes.

I can’t breathe.

“That’s enough,” another voice calls out in the bleakness. “Boss wants them in one piece.”

The first man grunts, delivering one last kick to my side before retreating. You had to get one more in there, didn’t ya’, buddy?

Aria and I lie there, gasping and whimpering. Every breath is agony. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.

When I can finally speak, I turn my head toward Aria.

“Don’t provoke them,” I whisper, my voice a rasp. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

A lie, but what else can I say?

Aria’s eyes snap open again, wild with panic. She tries to sit, but the Zip Ties bite into her wrists and ankles. A strangled cry escapes her throat when she realizes she’s trussed up tight.

“Hey, look at me.” I keep my voice low and urgent. “I know you’re scared. I am too, but we must stay calm, okay?”

“Who—who are you?” Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and terrified.

No one. I’m no one.

“I’m Ember. I saw them grab you on the street. I tried to help, but…” I trail off, the recognition of my failure settling in my chest. I know better than this. Playing hero always comes at a cost. It’s a lesson I learned far too young.

“Oh God, oh God, they’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” Aria’s breath comes in sharp gasps.

“No.” I infuse as much certainty into that single word as I can muster. “We’re going to get out of this, but you need to breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Try not to catch their attention.”

She tries to follow my instructions. I demonstrate, exaggerating my breathing. Gradually, her gasps slow.

“Good,” I murmur. “That’s good. Just keep breathing.”

“Ain’t that sweet. The street rat is trying to comfort the princess.” A scoff from the front of the van twists my guts. In those few words, he encapsulates the sum total of my existence.

Ice floods my veins. Whoever said words can’t hurt never lived my life. His words cut deep, joining a lifetime of degradation and disgust.

The van takes a sharp turn, tires squealing. Aria and I slide across the metal floor, colliding with the wall. She yelps in pain.

“Shut her up,” a second voice growls. “Or I will.”

The threat hangs in the air, sharp as a blade.

“It’s okay.” I press closer to Aria, trying to shield her with my body. “Just focus on me. Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”

“New—New York. Upper East Side.” Aria’s voice quivers.

A world away from my upbringing.

“What do you like to do?” I press, desperate to keep her focused on anything other than our current situation.

“I-I play piano. And I volunteer at an animal shelter.” A ghost of a smile flickers across her face. “There’s this three-legged pit bull named Moxie. She’s my favorite.”

The van slams into a pothole, sending a sharp jolt through my body. Pain flares in my ribs, making me gasp. Aria winces beside me, her whimper cutting through the silence. The rough ride turns every bump into agony, and our bruised bodies rattle against the cold metal floor. Our brief moment of calm is gone, replaced by the relentless ache of every jarring hit.

“Hey,” I say quickly. “Tell me more about Moxie. What’s she like?”

As Aria talks, her voice fades into the background, overtaken by the drone of the engine and the steady hum of tires. I’m trying to figure it out—trying to piece together where we are, but it’s useless. No windows. No landmarks. Just the dim interior of this van and the ache in my body.

We hit another bump, and my head spins with the disorientation. A left turn earlier, I think—maybe? Then, straight for what feels like forever. Now, a sharp right. It’s all a blur, like trying to solve a puzzle with pieces missing, my mind foggy from being knocked out.

Could we be heading north toward the bridges? South? I don’t know. It’s like grasping at smoke. Every second that passes, the city slips further from my understanding.

A phone rings, shrill and jarring.

“Yeah?” the gruffer voice answers. A pause. “No, no problems. Yeah, we got her, picked up a stray… The rich princess and some street rat who tried to play hero.”

My jaw clenches at yet another insult, but I force myself to stay still, listening intently.

The guy in the passenger seat grunts into his phone. “Nah, they’re secured. Headed to the drop point now. ETA—about an hour.”

An hour. Sixty minutes to figure out a way out of this mess.

The call ends with a click. “Boss wants us to pick up the pace. No stops.”

The van swerves, picking up speed, and the road underneath shifts—bumpier, rougher. The hum of the tires dulls, and the air feels heavier. I know this sound. I know this route.

“Better not hit any traffic near the Meatpacking District,” the driver mutters. “You know how it gets this time of day.”

My stomach twists. Of course. The Meatpacking District. I know it all too well. I used to haunt those streets, hiding out in abandoned warehouses, stealing what I could just to survive.

That place was my prison and my sanctuary for too many years until I finally clawed my way out. Now, I barely scrape by, paying rent for a shitty little apartment in another part of town—better than the warehouses but still a far cry from freedom.

And now they’re dragging me right back into the hell of my old life.

“Fine by me,” the other voice replies. “Sooner we dump these two, the better.”

Dump. The word sends a chill down my spine. Are they planning to kill us?

Or hand us off to someone else?

I look at Aria, and the same fear is reflected in her eyes. We need a plan now.

I test my bonds, subtle movements disguised as shifting positions. The Zip Ties are tight and cutting into my skin.

A sudden movement catches my eye. The man in the passenger seat turns, leveling a gun at us.

“Don’t even think about it, street rat.” His eyes are cold, a hint of madness lurking beneath the surface. This one’s dangerous. Unpredictable. “One wrong move, and I put a bullet in your kneecap. Got it?”

I freeze, heart thundering in my chest. “Got it,” I whisper.

He smirks, a cruel twist of lips. “Smart little rat. Now, both of you shut the fuck up. I’m tired of listening to your yapping.”

The other kidnapper sighs. “Put the gun away, Twitch. Boss wants them unharmed.”

Twitch. Fitting name for the twitchy psycho with a gun.

“Unharmed doesn’t mean comfortable,” Twitch snarls, but he lowers the weapon.

Silence descends, heavy and oppressive. I close my eyes, focusing on my other senses. The van’s suspension creaks as we take a turn. Horns blare in the distance. We’re in heavier traffic now.

My mind races, grasping for any scrap of information that might help us, but the reality of our situation can’t be denied. We’re at the mercy of these men.

Aria shifts beside me, a tiny movement that speaks volumes. I open my eyes to find her staring at me, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

“It’s going to be okay.” I mouth the words, not daring to speak aloud.

She gives a barely perceptible nod, but doubt flickers in her eyes. Hell, I feel it too. But giving into despair won’t help either of us.

I think of my life on the streets, of all the close calls and desperate situations. I’ve survived this long. I’m not about to give up now.

The van’s speed increases and the engine’s growl grows louder. Wherever we’re going, we’re almost there because suddenly, the quality of sound outside changes. The echoes of other vehicles fade, replaced by the crunch of gravel beneath tires. We’re off the main road.

Panic claws at my throat, but I force it down. This is it.

Our last chance.

I catch Aria’s eye, trying to convey a silent message. Be ready. For what, I’m not sure. But whatever happens next, we face it together.

The van slows and stops. The engine cuts off, and for a moment, there is silence.

Then, the back doors swing open.

Blinding light floods the van. I squint against it, my heart pounding. As my eyes adjust, I catch a glimpse of our surroundings.

My breath catches.

Yeah… I know this place.

The abandoned warehouse looms before us. Its broken windows remind me of jagged teeth against the sky—a relic from my past, a shelter on my darkest nights, a living hell the rest of the time.

Of all the places in this sprawling city, they brought us here.

Fate has no mercy.

A rough hand grabs my arm, yanking me forward.

“Move it,” Twitch snarls.

As they drag us from the van, my mind races. I know this building. Its hidden corners, its secret passages. Somehow, that’s got to count in my favor. A flicker of hope ignites in my chest for the first time since this nightmare began.

We may have a chance after all.