The van jerked hard to the left.
I rolled with the motion, shoulder slamming into the side wall. Pain bloomed down my arm, but I didn’t make a sound. I wouldn’t give them that.
I needed every second to figure out where we were going.
But there were no windows. No street sounds. Nothing but the thrum of the engine and the occasional rattle of loose metal.
My stomach rolled.
Not from fear—okay, a little from fear—but mostly from whatever they’d used to knock me out. My mouth still tasted like chemicals. My pulse was too fast. My skin felt too tight.
I couldn’t stay like this.
I twisted again, testing the zip ties.
Still tight. Still burning.
But one of them had pressed too hard into my wrist. I could feel the blood, warm, sticky, starting to coat my fingers. Not enough to pass out. Just enough to lube the plastic.
Good.
Let it bleed.
I’d cut my own hands off before I let them win.
The driver spoke again. This time louder, voice edged in something that sounded like nerves.
“We’re here.”
The van slowed. Gravel crunched under the tires. A gate creaked open, then slammed shut behind us. A chain, maybe. The air shifted. It was less stale, more open. Like we were somewhere industrial.
The warehouse. It had to be.
The air smelled wrong. Oil. Dust. Rust. Old water.
Places like this didn’t care what happened inside them. Sound got swallowed. Time got warped.
This was where people disappeared and paperwork got lost.
The back doors slammed open, flooding the van with cold light. Gray sky. Chain-link fence in the distance. I caught a flash of corrugated steel and a loading dock. No signs. No numbers. Just anonymity.
The kind of place you disappear from.
The kind of place no one walks out of.
Two sets of boots climbed inside. The tall one from earlier and a shorter guy with a baseball bat slung over his shoulder. The tall one crouched down again and grabbed me by the arm.
“You gonna behave?” he asked.
I stared him down.
Then spat in his face.
His expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker.
He wiped his cheek and said, “You’ll regret that.”
Then he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me upright.
