Page 65 of The Queen

Frowning as I struggle, wondering what he is doing, I ask, “Professor Franks?”

His voice, timid almost and quiet, is one I can hear talking about Medieval History like it’s his passion.

“What do you want?” I ask as he drags me back a bit towards a bush. “You’d better be quick about it because the guys are coming, and they will kill you where you stand if I don’t get myself out of this first.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he murmurs, and then I feel a sting on my neck.

“Ow,” I hiss, then “Fuck!” I roar so loudly, wondering where the hell the guys are. “Help!”

My cry for help is pitiful, and I realise that all this will do is make the guys, who apparently split up, think I’m still playing the game, and one of the others caught me.

Franks’ hand goes under my dress, and I writhe fiercely, “Hey!” I snap, but all he does is grip Flick and pull her out of her holster. “Don’t touch that, you fucker!”

My voice cracks, and my head swims.

My knees buckle, but Franks holds me up and then turns me to face him. That mask is creepy as all fuck, warped and theatrical, black and covering Frank’s face completely, except for two slits where his eyes are.

“You’re going to pay for this, you asshole,” I snarl, but my voice is nothing but a whisper. My head spins, and he lifts me up, slinging me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Help,” I rasp. “Help.”

But it’s no use. Franks strides through the forest, my eyes closing of their own will, and my world goes black as I’m abducted, powerless to stop it.