My phone is gone. My smartwatch, too. They took everything.
“I lost everything because of you,” Trent continues. “My company. My reputation. I’m facing twenty years in federal prison. My wife left with my kids.”
“And kidnapping me will fix that?”
“No.” His smile makes my skin crawl. “But making you suffer will.” He pulls out his phone. “You know, I almost gave up. Then I reached out to an old friend and offered to pay him for his time.”
My stomach drops.
“I told him I’d make it worth his while.” Trent’s eyes gleam. “Damon was eager to help an old industry contact. Funny how the tech world keeps bringing people together.”
I stop breathing for a moment. I knew Damon had issues with me, but this? This is beyond anything I imagined.
“He gave me everything. Your schedule, your apartment, your favorite coffee shop. He even told me you’d be in Paris. Hesaid his name was still on the hotel reservation, so my guy could get in without a problem. I guess he wasn’t too happy that you took his place on that trip.”
This is all unbelievable.
“You should see your face.” Trent laughs. “You had no idea.”
I force my expression to be neutral.
“Did you really think your little romance with Damon’s best friends wouldn’t have consequences?” Trent crosses his arms. “Damon loved you.”
His words find every insecurity I’ve buried, but I push them down. This is what he wants: to break me before whatever comes next.
“Where’s Damon now?” My voice is steadier than I feel.
“He’s probably at home, wondering why I’m not answering his calls.” Trent’s smile turns cruel. “The fool actually thought I just wanted information for leverage. He thought I’d scare you a little and make the triplets sweat.”
Ice floods my veins. “He didn’t know you were going to take me.”
“Does it matter? He gave me everything I needed.” Trent’s phone rings, and he removes it from his back pocket, looking at it. “I’ll be back, but for now, I’ll let you sit with that for a while and really think about the choices you’ve made.” He answers his phone and then walks to the exit.
The door closes. A lock clicks.
I’m alone.
For five seconds, I let panic wash over me. Then I lock it down. I’m not dying in this warehouse. I’m not letting Trent win.
I test the zip ties again. They’re too tight to break, but zip ties have a weakness—the locking mechanism is one-directional. I need something thin and rigid to shim the lock.
I scan the warehouse. Near the generator, there’s broken glass from a shattered bulb.
I rock the chair gently. The legs scrape against concrete. I freeze, listening. No footsteps. I rock harder, and the chair tips. I hit the ground hard. Pain explodes in my shoulder, but I bite down on the scream.
I’m on my side now, still tied to the chair but mobile. I inch across the floor, dragging the chair with me toward the glass. My shoulder throbs in pain, but I keep going.
I reach the glass and close my fingers around the largest shard. It bites into my palm, but I have it.
I angle the glass toward the zip tie on my right wrist, sliding it into the gap between the ratchet and the pawl. My hands shake. The glass slips, cutting deeper.
Focus.
I reposition, slide the glass in, and apply pressure.
The zip tie pops open. I quickly work on my left wrist, then my ankles.
I’m free.
