Hands grab my arms and yank me out.
“Move.”
A shove sends me stumbling forward. I can’t see anything through the bag covering my head, and the disorientation makes my steps clumsy.
Gravel crunches beneath my shoes.
They walk me forward for several seconds before we stop.
Then someone pushes me down hard into a chair.
Cold metal presses against the backs of my thighs.
Rough hands grab my wrists.
“Hold her still.”
Rope brushes against my skin.
Panic flares.
I react instantly.
I jerk one arm free and swing wildly, my elbow slamming into someone’s ribs.
“Shit!”
Another hand grabs my shoulder.
I kick forward, connecting with a shin.
A man curses loudly.
“Stop!” I snap, twisting violently in the chair. “Get your hands off me!”
They try again to grab my wrists, but I thrash harder, adrenaline surging through my veins.
The bag over my head makes it harder to breathe.
My chest rises and falls rapidly as I fight like an animal.
Someone behind me grabs my hair to hold me still.
“Enough.”
The voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.
A woman’s voice.
Cold.
Elegant.
Commanding.
The men freeze instantly.
“Let her fight,” the woman says calmly.
