“Professor Layla Vren?” the smiling man calls out. His voice is smooth, unbothered by the rain. There’s a strong accent weighing his words. Russian.
I stop, tightening my grip on my bag. “Wren,” I correct him gently. “Who’s asking?”
The man in the middle with the diamond cuff links and an air of aristocracy about him closes the distance between us with a predatory ease. “You know Professor Michaels?”
My pulse stutters at the mention of my friend’s name. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I take a step back but there’s nowhere to really go given my car is directly behind me and the three of them have circled me. Daniel always told me I needed to get my head out of books and pay attention to my surroundings more.
I swallow past the sudden dryness of my throat. “Um, yes. He’s… he’s a colleague of mine. What’s this about?”
The rich Russian offers a slow smile that doesn’t touch his icy blue eyes. “You’ve been looking for him. Right? You and him teach the same material?”
I edge closer to my car and reach behind me for the handle. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why you would care about what either of us teaches. I have to go.” I hit the unlock on my car and pull the handle.
The tall man off to my left moves, blocking my path and slams a hand down on the door, forcing it closed. My throat goes tight as the third man to my right closes in.
“It’s okay, Professor,” their leader offers in a cold tone. From one second to the next his voice loses its warmth. “You come vith us.”
Sure. Go with the creepy dudes in the dark parking lot. A girl’s dream come true.
I shake my head. Despite the weather, my whole body turns icy cold. “Nope! Not happening.”
“Da, malyshka. Da.It is happening.”
A gloved hand darts out from my right, too quick for me to evade. Something soft presses hard over my nose and mouth.
Ice-blue eyes narrow on me. “Inhale, Professor. Nap time.”
I don’t tell him to go fuck himself because I’m too busy trying to not breathe and fight him off at the same time. I wrap my hand around a strong wrist and fight the hold on me, but I’m not strong enough. This dude must lift bricks in his time off. Nothing I do budges his grip.
Chemical fumes burn my eyes. I thrash, trying to scream, but the world around me tunnels into inky darkness. Sounds turnmuffled by the increasing rain and my own panicked heartbeat. My sandals skid on wet pavement as my knees buckle, and darkness claws at the edge of my vision.
My last thought before the world goes black is that next time I see Daniel I’m going to give him a knuckle sandwich.
I don’t know how long I’ve laid with my face pressed into the cold concrete beneath me, but when I lift my head, I feel the stiffness all over. Hammers pound against the side of my head and every time I try to open my eyes all I see is a blur of grays and browns. For a moment I’m disoriented, chasing memories of rain and city lights and the sharp burn of fear.
Light flickers overhead—a bare bulb, swinging gently, casting wild shadows. The air smells of mildew, copper, and something sweeter. Chemicals, I quickly realize. My wrists burn, too. I try to pull them in front of me, but there’s something rough wrapped around them.
Rope. Someone tied my hands behind my back.
Muted voices seep through with the light but give me no clues where I am. It’s not like I threw myself in here so someone has to know something.
I adjust my body to where I am sitting up with my feet in front of me. I cast about and try to feel for anyone or anything. “Hello,” I call out softly. Nothing.
After a few moments, I feel strong enough to rise to my knees and try to stand. I take a few careful steps and that’s when I notice there’s a body next to me.
Daniel. His face is slack, lips blue, eyes glassy and vacant. I choke on a sob, my throat clogged with a rush of emotionsclawing to get out. I fight back the tears that want to break free at finding my friend dead.
I fall to the floor in front of him and grunt when my knees hit the floor. I reach for Daniel, but the booknerd in me screams for me to keep my hands off the dead body.
Footsteps thud against the cement, drawing my attention to a slit of light coming from the far left corner of the room. The same three men from the parking lot enter through the door. The first man—the one with the smug smile and the one I suspect drugged me—crouches in front of me.
“Professor Vren,” he says, sounding almost pleased. “Velcome. It’s nice to have you finally join us. Veles, look. See I told you I didn’t use too much on her. She’s fine, da.”
My brain fog takes a minute to clear along with my vision.
Veles, I mentally repeat. I have a name to go with the face.
Behind him stands the older man. The one with the diamond cuff links and the smug smile. His eyes are hard and cold as he considers me from across the room.
