ALICE
Iam battered black and blue and will probably never recover from the bruises this journey has gifted me. My limbs are screaming in agony, and I am struggling to breathe. It’s as if I’ve been buried alive and it’s a frightening experience that I’ve suffered too many times in my life.
I don’t know whether to be grateful when the car stops, or terrified. I suppose I’m experiencing a mixture of both, and as the car jolts to a stop, I keep my eyes tightly closed. I have decided to feign sleep until I get to understand my surroundings and as the light hits my eyelids, it tells me I’m free—as free as being locked in a trunk can be.
The warm air is welcome, and I attempt to drag in huge breaths of air without appearing desperate.
Rough hands grasp me, and I’m shocked when Stefan’s voice hits me.
“Do you have to be so fucking rough?”
“Sorry, habit I guess.”
My mind is racing because Stefan is here. What the hell is going on? A cold shiver of dread creeps through my bones at the realization that Stefan has betrayed me. Why is he doing this?Did whoever the boss is pay him? Did he ever like me even, let alone…
I park that thought because I’m ashamed of myself. I’m starting to believe that I have been led up the garden path by the fucking gardener, of all people. The disappointment is overwhelming, and I shift my mind from Stefan into survival mode and listen for anything that could help me escape from these men.
Once again, I am slung over the shoulder of my captor, and I chance opening my eyes to a slit where I notice the tarmac he is walking on.
There is movement—lots of it and shouting, machinery and the thump of activity.
I hear a plane landing and realize we are at an airport. Ironic, really, because that’s exactly where I should be. In fact, my flight is probably taking off and I’m the fool who believed she could make it on her own in a world she has never had to navigate before.
I’m such an idiot and angry with myself, but I must park that anger now and think fast.
We climb the aircraft steps and I’ve been around enough private jets in my life to know this is another one of them, but whose?
As we reach the cabin, I remain limp in the hope of buying myself some time, and a deep guttural voice slides over my soul like a demon’s curse.
“Good work. Tie her to the chair.”
Fuck. Tie her to the chair. So much for my escape plan.
Rough hands force me into the previously stated chair, and I try so hard to feign sleep as my arms are restrained by some kind of rope.
My ankles are also tied down, and inside I’m shaking like a flower in a tornado. This isn’t good and the only comfort I am taking from this is that I’m not dead yet.
I sense someone standing in front of me and try so hard not to react as the deep voice slides across my soul like a devil’s curse.
“Well, well, what a pretty wife I have.”
Fuck! Wife! Over my dead body will I marry whoever this man is.
“How long?”
He snaps and a deep voice answers him.
“The pilot is carrying out his checks and tells us ten minutes.”
“Tell him five if he wants to live to fly another day.”
Footsteps fade and I’m shocked when a painful slap causes my head to rock to one side.
“Wake the fuck up. We have business to attend to.”
I can’t help it and my eyes open to the sight of an older man leering at me, his eyes narrowed to slits as he licks his lips.
“Now I have your attention, my pretty little dove, allow me to introduce myself. I am your husband, and you will spend the rest of your life obeying me or you have no life at all.”
