I staggered, spit blood. Didn’t stop.
I turned, kicked the inside of his knee. He dropped. The other was already coming at me.
I ducked. His fist grazed my shoulder. I ran. Two steps. That was all I got. Then an arm around my throat.
I clawed. Kicked. Tried to twist. He lifted me clean off the ground. My scream was a garbled choke. My nails dug into skin. I caught his face. Ripped something. He slammed me against the car door. My vision blurred. The rag returned. Pressed hard.
I held my breath. Twisted again. Slammed the back of my head into his face. Heard something crack. His grip slipped. I ran again. Made it to the sidewalk. I saw him.
Wolfe.
Just his silhouette. Lit by the streetlamp, coat unfastened, head tilted down as he moved toward the building like nothing had gone wrong. Like I was still inside. Like I hadn’t already been stolen. I opened my mouth and screamed his name.
“WOLFE!”
My voice tore out of me like it was trying to break something. The man holding me tightened his grip.
I twisted.
Kicked.
“WOLFE!”
I screamed it again.
Louder. Ragged. Unhinged.
He didn’t turn. He didn’t hear.
I lunged. My feet scraped the pavement. My body pitched forward. I almost broke free.
Almost. The rag hit again. Cloth soaked through. Jammed against my mouth. Hands on my throat. I thrashed. Slammed my head back. Slammed my foot down.
“WOLFE!”
It was a sob now. A prayer. A scream that ripped from somewhere behind my ribs. He walked through the door.
Gone.
The last thing I felt before everything went dark was the edge of the trunk against my back.
And the sound of my name—not from Wolfe. But from the man who stuffed me inside.
“You’re done running, girl.”
Wolfe
I didn’t hear her. That was the part that burned the deepest.
Not the silence. Not the stillness.
The absence.
I stepped out of the car without thinking. My hand brushed the roof as I shut the door behind me. The engine ticked in the quiet, a lazy heat curling out from under the hood as I crossed the pavement.
The streetlight flickered overhead.
No wind. No warning.
