Ice floods my veins. I can’t believe this is happening to me.
When we near the van, a third man hops out of the side door. He’s shorter and thinner than the one grappling me, with a pockmarked face and dark hair pulled up in a man-bun.
He holds up a strip of cloth.
My stomach twists. “No! Don’t?—”
He cuts me off by shoving the cloth between my lips. The third man knots the material at the back of my head. The bitter, dirty taste causes me to gag.
The first guy tosses a pitch-black burlap bag over my head, the rough fabric scraping my cheeks and reeking of armpits. Clearly not a TA. More like a monster in sexy sheep’s clothing. I can’t believe I ever found him attractive.
They return me to my feet for only a millisecond before someone drags my hands in front of me and ties them together. A zip tie? The plastic cuts into my skin, burning my wrists.
As someone shoves me into the musty back of the creeper van, I shout against the gag. My hip collides with the floorboard, and small blooms of pain shoot through my body.
Sightless. Terrified. Helpless.
I can’t do anything against the three men who snatched me, so I breathe deeply and try to focus. Any details I notice now could help me later.
The van door slams shut, followed by eerie, too-still silence. Muffled male voices. Chirping birds. An airplane slicing through the sky somewhere overhead.
As I inhale, the dry air, grainy and sour, clings to the back of my throat. The scent of gasoline mixes with the foul sack over my head.
Metal scrapes metal when the door on my other side squeals open. The van rocks as the men all climb in, their heavy footfalls echoing in the space. When they step over me, the hems of their pants brush against my arms.
I may as well be gum on the sidewalk.
Once the doors close, we’re moving. The driver of this operation hits the gas so hard that I roll over as he departs the scene of the crime.
Worse, because no one’s here for me, no one will know about my abduction. The men who guard me don’t return to work until Monday. Finn called to wish me a happy graduation day earlier this morning, so he’ll have no idea I’m in trouble either.
While the van speeds off to who knows where, my thoughts swirl into panic. Dust and sweat mingle with the reek of stale gas and rust, clogging my lungs.
Hot, salty tears sting the rims of my eyes.
This happened to Angelica too. I’m going to die just like her.
I struggle to calm myself. If I can regulate my breathing, maybe I can regulate my mind too. I need to think. These menmight be with the Port Kings, the brewing threat Finn recently warned me about. What if they know about the hard drive?
If so, they’ll never find it. I’m not telling them anything, and I’ve already mailed the drive to my new apartment in Austin.
Fuck them.
I strain against my bonds, using all the strength in my voice to scream through the fabric obstructing my mouth, even if that means my tongue touches?—
Through the burlap, the unmistakable ice-cold barrel of a gun presses to my forehead. My whole body stills.
I’m just a kid walking home with my best friend, Angelica.
Red hair close in shade to mine. Eyes an even brighter green and so much more beautiful. Whenever we’re bored in class, I count the freckles on her face.
We laugh as tires screech. At the curb ahead, a sleek black van skids to a stop.
Big, burly, monstrous men pop out and stalk straight toward us.
“Ange?” My voice rises unsteadily, alarm flooding my mind. I spin toward her, but I’m too late.
One of the men who followed us home from school holds Angelica. The other presses a gun to my head.
