“You won’t. You won’t, ever. Stay right there, okay? I’m coming to you. I’ll be there in—”
I never get to finish the sentence. She never gets to hear it. She drops her phone, stunned by three figures that barrel into the café. Each face is covered by a ski mask. All three tower over her, obstructing my view of her entirely.
“RUN!” I scream, already on my feet, my gun already in my hand.
But it’s no use.
I watch her do her damnedest, punching and kicking and scrambling toward her knife. She’s outnumbered. No matter what, she’s outnumbered.
She is magnificent. She is the love of my fucking life.
And she doesn’t stand a chance.
Chapter 24 - Janella
The world comes back to me in watery fragments.
My mouth is sour. An acrid chemical taste coats my tongue. Someone must be trying to pound nails into my skull. The ache is sharp. My guts are in knots.
It’s too late by the time I register their voices. Deep, male voices—four of them, I think—talking about “the package”.
It’s even later by the time I realize they’re talking about me.
When I squirm, a rough fabric scrapes against my cheeks. That explains the darkness. I’m not just blind. There’s something over my head.
Each passing second makes it more and more clear that this is not one of my night terrors. No, this is real.
So is the panic that claws its way up my insides. I have to swallow it down. I have to.Think,I plead with my fuzzy brain.
If you’re ever taken,Iosif had once told me during one of the training sessions I’d talked him into giving me,the first few minutes are crucial. When they’re moving, you're your best shot. They have the least control. Get the fuck out of the vehicle.
My whole body jostles when the vehicle rocks over a speed bump. Zip-ties bite into my wrists and ankles. Testing them, I yank against the restraints. They aren’t the tightest. I guess they wouldn’t make extra sure of them being. I don’t look like much, do I? Easy to underestimate.
“The fact that people assume you’re weak is probably your biggest asset,” Leonid had said to me weeks ago.
Envisioning my body frozen, I keep as still as possible. Beneath my weight, I begin to work my wrists back and forth. It stings, scraping my skin.You can do this,I tell myself.
The universe rebels. The van hits a pothole, flinging me against some sort of wall.
One of the men curses.
“Watch thefuckingroad,” another man snarls.
I pat around behind myself, straining to find my bearings. My chest is so tight, panic is shrinking my lungs. I don’t need to look at a watch to know my time is running out.
The van swerves again.
It takes everything in me to withhold a cry when I slam into a bolt. It strikes me in the hip. Adrenaline alone dulls the pain enough to work my bound wrists over it. If it was sharp enough to cut through my jeans, it should be sharp enough to—
I pull, hard as I can, refusing to cry out when plastic tears at my skin.
The zip-ties don’t snap, but they loosen enough.
“Ten minutes,” someone announces.
That’s all the time you’ve got. Hurry the fuck up.
It all boils down to a single point in time. I’ve found that most important moments in life tend to.
