My hands fumble to find the right spot on his sternum. I stack one trembling palm over the other and push. Hard. One, two, three—I count the rhythm in my head, praying for a heartbeat, my tears blurring the sight of his pale face.
“Mateo…” I sob as I attempt to do more chest compressions. Pedro is beside us, barking frantically and snapping at the air. My fear grows bigger the longer he doesn’t respond.
Cloudy with tears, my eyes dart around the room, searching for anything, anyone, or any answer that would help.
Phone, yes. I need to call an ambulance.
I crawl and reach for my phone, which has dropped on the floor, but I don’t reach it.
A black combat boot smashes down on it, pinning it to the floor before kicking it across the room. Before I can even react, a hand grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking me to my feet in one rough motion.
I gasp and claw at the air. My legs dangle uselessly as I’m lifted like I weigh nothing. My scalp burns when I’m spun around to find myself staring into the face of a nightmare.
The man is a huge wall of muscle with a thick beard and dead, shark-like eyes.
“I got a woman here.” He murmurs after clicking a button on his ear.
“HEEELP!” I scream, thrashing against his hold.
“Callarse la boca,” he grunts, slamming me against the wall, the impact rattling my teeth. Pedro goes wild, barking at the man’s heavy boots, so the man kicks him hard, sending him yelping into the corner.
“No!” I cry.
“Caucasian, brown eyes, pretty face,” he reports to the earpiece. “Package secured.”
Package?
He leans in. His face is inches from mine, smelling of stale tobacco and beer.
“Say your name,” he growls.
“Fuck you!” I spit on his face.
He smiles, revealing a gold-capped tooth.
“Don’t dare me,Princesa. Say your name, or I’ll fuck you right here next to your brother’s corpse.”
My eyes widen at the threat, and terror floods me.
I’m going to die tonight.
“Say it!” He tightens his grip on my neck, cutting off my air until black spots dance in my vision.
“K-Kat... Katarina!” I gasp.
“Katarina,” he repeats. When someone in his earpiece responds, he lets my neck go, and I start coughing from the gasp of air. He leers into my eyes, then my mouth, and finally down my chest before he licks his own lips in a maniacal gesture.
"There, there, good girl. Now, keep it quiet, do as I say, and we’ll have no problem. You understand me?” he warns, pulling out what seem like zip-ties from his back pocket. Then he spins me around, hitting my face on the wall so hard it cuts my eyebrow, and I feel blood drip down my face like tears. He secures my wrists with the zip tie, pulling it so tight it cuts into my skin. After, he pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of me, then of Mateo on the floor.
“Proof of acquisition is sent,” he mutters into his earpiece again.
“Please, let me go.” I plead.
He ignores me and covers my mouth with a cloth, tying it behind my head. Then, with a grip that is tight enough to break my arm, he hauls me away from the wall and pushes me out the door.
I trip, collapsing to the ground, but he doesn't release me. Instead, he yanks me up by my arm and shoves me forward like a worthless rag doll. My eyes dart around frantically as I desperately try to devise an escape.
I know if he succeeds in taking me, it’s over.
