“It’s going to be okay,” Rage says, scowling. “We’ll find them.”
“I’m just glad you got Cleo out of there,” she says, hugging her cat tighter.
Me too.
Chapter Twelve
Allora
The arrival of my new phone feels like Christmas. Luna was nice enough to set it up for me, including getting everything off the cloud from my old phone, so I have my contacts and everything, even though it’s a new phone number. I don’t know how Luna did it, but I don’t care—I’m just so relieved to have access to the outside world.
And the first call I make is to my friend Lacy.
“Hey!” She answers on the first ring. “Where have you been? Your phone has been going straight to voicemail for over a week.”
I pull in a breath, steeling myself for the conversation we’re about to have.
Because I have to tell someone.
I have to be able to talk about this—for my own sanity. Otherwise, it stays buried deep, where it’s simmering and I spend far too much time overthinking all my life choices.
“Something happened,” I say slowly.
“What happened?” she demands. “Are you okay?”
“I was kidnapped.”
“What?!” Her voice is slightly less volatile than a shriek.
“I had dinner with Jillian and Sage. We got done around 10:30, and I walked back to my car. I was parked on the street…it was only a block away. I got the keys out, clicked the button to unlock it and someone grabbed me from behind.” I pause, trying to breathe as memories momentarily overwhelm me.
“Oh fuck, Allora.” Lacy’s voice is filled with concern.
“They knocked my phone out of my hand, and I guess they used chloroform or something because he put a cloth over my face and that’s all I remember until I woke up.”
“Jesus.”
“It was a sex trafficking ring,” I say, since that’s easier than jumping right into what they did to me.
“What?!” Her voice is low but filled with shock.
“When I woke up, my ankle was chained to a bed. The room was dark. There was no food or water, no windows, nothing but four walls and this horrible smelly mattress on a platform.”
“Allora.” Lacy’s voice is soft but filled with horror. “Did he?—”
“Yes.” I blurt out the response quickly, before I chicken out. “And there were two of them.”
The silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes. Since I know her well, I have a feeling she’s doing some version of counting to ten before she explodes with anger or empathy or whatever it is she’s feeling.
“I’m okay, Lace,” I say softly. “I was rescued. It took two days but I managed to fight through the drugs and signal for help. A man saw it and followed us. When it became clear that he wasn’t giving up, my captor stopped the van in the middle of nowhere, jumped out and ran, leaving me behind.”
“And a good Samaritan rescued you?”
“Yes. And believe it or not, he’s a professional bodyguard. Former Special Forces. He’s badass as hell. His name is Landon. My father hired him to protect me until we can sort this out.”
“Why do you need protection?” she asks slowly.
“Because they have my wallet with my ID and stuff. And I saw their faces. My dad and Daniil think?—”
