The street ahead doesn’t look backed up enough to cause this kind of hesitation. It’s almost too quiet.
Then I see a red van angled across the road, not fully blocking the way, but enough of an inconvenience to make the other drivers take their time going around it just in case.
Catching movement in the rearview mirror, I focus on it, catching as an SUV pulls in close behind us, and doing so faster than necessary.
Something strange scurries down my spine at that.
“What’s going on?” I ask, unsure if the question is even meant for him.
The driver’s hand drops just out of sight, reaching for something. “Just stay in the car, Elena.”
Just as he says it, the car is surrounded.
In a wave, the doors are yanked open as voices shout, filling the space with more chaos than I’m prepared to contend with. Their voices are unfamiliar and commanding, not waiting for compliance.
“Elena—”
Before he can reach for me or get a shot in, there’s a brief struggle that happens far too fast for me to follow.
Then, a soft pop sound fills the car, muffled on purpose. The driver slumps in his seat, and before I can stop it, I’m screaming.
The sound tears out of my throat before I can stop it, feeling as hands reach for me. I curl inward to try and stop them from grabbing my arms, but it does nothing. My heart slams against my ribs, and the same thought circulates in my mind, sharp and panicked.
This isn’t happening. Not again.
But the hands don’t stop. Instead, they grab me roughly, trying to be quick as they get my buckle undone and haul me out like I weigh nothing at all.
With sheer, unbridled fear clawing at my chest, I kick and scratch blindly, using my trainers to my advantage. My heel slams into something soft, and someone curses, followed by a hushed laugh, like they know this isn’t the time but can’t resist.
“Fuck sakes…hold her!”
I twist, trying to wrench free as I catch someone’s ribs with my elbow. Still, it doesn’t do anything.
They’re too strong, and there are too many of them, even if I can’t keep track of how frantically I’m moving.
The adrenaline is hot and blinding, and the world narrows to base sensations: fingers digging into skin, the smell of unfamiliar cologne and cigarettes, and the sharp chill in the air as it bites against my exposed skin while I’m dragged away.
“Please,” I cry out, voice a rasp that’s far too humiliating. “Please, stop—”
My lungs burn as I try to breathe, slipping into a kind of panic brought on by this painful deja vu.
I can’t do this again. I can’t be abducted, bound, and gagged, and left to wonder whose hands my fate will end up in. I got lucky with Wyatt, and it sure as hell won’t happen again.
Just as I go to scream again, a hand clamps over my mouth. Without hesitation, I bite hard, both terrified and furious at the thought of going anywhere with them. The man curses but grips harder, making pain bloom in my face.
But regardless of how much it hurts, I don’t stop fighting. I thrash harder, fuelled by instinct and renewed rage, quickly reminded of the helplessness that plagued me the first time this happened. How despite my faith, my brothers didn’t come when I thought they would.
I don’t know how long I fight for, but as my limbs grow heavy and uncoordinated, a sharp sting pinches my neck, sending my awareness shooting to that point.
Blinking, a sluggish sort of confusion moves through me, making everything drag within seconds.
I swallow hard and go to speak, only for nothing to come out.
“Easy,” someone murmurs too close to my ear as the once-hectic movements around me change somehow, only to slip from my recognition entirely. “It’ll pass.”
I want to scream more than anything, but I can’t get my throat to work. I can’t make a sound. And soon enough, my vision blurs to the point where everything feels too distant.
As I start to slip, I think of Wyatt for a beat. His hands on me, the wild determination in his eyes to keep me close, and the unguarded way he took me in, spent and far softer than usual.
