“She won’t be wearing these for long when we get to our destination. Might as well give us something pretty to look at.”
I can almost visualize his pervy smile. A retort lies on the tip of my tongue, but antagonizing these men wouldn’t be smart, so I say nothing, waiting to see how it plays out.
“That doesn’t matter. If you value breathing, you don’t touch Luminary property.”
Luminary property?What the what?
The hand at my crotch disappears, and I’m momentarily relieved.
I want to point outhe’stouching me too, but I don’t think I’ll get any brownie points for it. “I’m not Luminary property,” I say, wondering what the hell that even means. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else. You should let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone anything. Just stop the car, and let me out.” I doubt it will work, but it’s worth saying anyway.
“There is no mistaken identity. Now keep quiet. Unless you’d prefer me to drug you again.”
A dull pain rattles around my skull, reminding me of that fact. I grind my teeth to the molars, wanting to retaliate, but I say nothing. Purely for self-preservation. My pulse throbs in my neck as the vehicle moves quickly on whatever road we are on.
Trying to control my errant breathing and keep my rising panic at bay, I focus on my other senses and attempt to get a reading of my surroundings. I listen carefully to the breaths puffing into the air and the slight motion of bodies near me, and I can tell I’m in a vehicle with more than just the driver and the two guys on either side of me. No one speaks, so it’s hard to tell how many of those black-cloaked figures are keeping me imprisoned.
I’m jolted forward a few minutes later when the vehicle goes over a bumpy patch of road. A hand grips my upper arm, hauling me back into the seat. I don’t know how long I was out for or how far we have traveled, but the road is getting progressively less smooth as we head toward our destination. The vehicle maneuvers over rough terrain, and the grip on my arm tightens.
It’s creepy how none of them are talking. I don’t hear the telltale swiping of fingers on cellphones either.
It’s just weird.
My mind races with possible scenarios. Lo’s trainer friend was right about the danger, and my parents knew someone was coming for me. Why else would Dad make such cryptic comments? I am super pissed at them for keeping me in the dark. It’s clear I’ve been in danger for weeks, and they said nothing to me.
If I die today, my blood will be on their hands.
I don’t understand any of this. Do they owe money to someone? Or they made a bad business deal? Got into bed with the wrong people and I’m leverage? My brain churns with possibilities while I work hard to keep a lid on my fear and the simmering panic in my veins. I can’t help myself unless I can think clearly. So, for now, I’m going to try to stay calm and keep my wits about me.
If my parents know I’m in trouble, they’ll realize I’ve been taken, and I trust them to come for me. I cling to that assertion even if there’s a part of me that doesn’t fully believe it.
Eventually, the vehicle slows down, and I sit up straighter, remaining alert and ignoring the blood pounding in my skull.
Someone clears their throat, and there’s a collective shuffling of feet as we take a sharp right.
“Take the next road on the left,” the main man instructs the driver. He is the first one who spoke to me, and he’s the chief communicator, so I’m assuming he is the one in charge. “Follow it until you come to a dead end in front of the crypt.”
Crypt?WTF?Acid crawls up my throat, and sweat coats the palms of my cuffed hands. My face is hot under the covering, pieces of my long hair sticking to my clammy brow. My shoulders and arms ache, and I’m acutely aware of the need to relieve my bladder. Quietly inhaling and exhaling, I concentrate on my breathing in an attempt to keep my cool. It’s challenging, but I’m determined not to fall apart.
The vehicle slows to a complete stop, and I hear the sliding motion as the side door is opened. The sounds of people getting out seem loud to my sensitive ears. “Don’t do anything stupid,” the main man says. “We are at a private facility in the middle of a forest in a remote location. There is no one around for fifty miles. Run and all you’ll receive for your trouble is punishment. I don’t advise it.” Gripping me by the hips, he helps me out of the vehicle, handing me off to another pair of waiting hands.
“You, you, and you. You’re coming with me,” the man says, gesturing at some of his colleagues I assume. “The rest of you, stay with the van and await further instructions.”
“I want inside.” It sounds like the second guy who spoke to me in the van. The asshole who wanted me naked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself. Stay here unless you want to be unalived.”
Thank fuck for small mercies.
I’m roughly handed off between the men and then frog-marched forward. “What’s going on?” I ask the question even knowing they’ll most likely ignore me.
Which they do.
A creaking, clanging sound up ahead raises goose bumps on my arms as I stumble on the bumpy ground, almost losing my footing. I still can’t see a damn thing through this head cover, and I’m sweating profusely now.
