Chapter 3
Trinity
“Let me go!” I struggle against the big man’s arms as he carries me to a dark van. The thing might as well have kidnappers scrawled all over its windowless walls.
Ice floods my veins. I can’t believe this is happening to me.
When we near the van, a third man hops out of the side door. He’s shorter and thinner than the one grappling me, with a pockmarked face and dark hair pulled up in a man-bun.
He holds up a strip of cloth.
My stomach twists. “No! Don’t—”
He cuts me off by shoving the cloth between my lips. The third man knots the material at the back of my head. The bitter, dirty taste causes me to gag.
The first guy tosses a pitch-black burlap bag over my head, the rough fabric scraping my cheeks and reeking of armpits. Clearly not a TA. More like a monster in sexy sheep’s clothing. I can’t believe I ever found him attractive.
They return me to my feet for only a millisecond before someone drags my hands in front of me and ties them together. A zip tie? The plastic cuts into my skin, burning my wrists.
As someone shoves me into the musty back of the creeper van, I shout against the gag. My hip collides with the floorboard, and small blooms of pain shoot through my body.
Sightless. Terrified. Helpless.
I can’t do anything against the three men who snatched me, so I breathe deeply and try to focus. Any details I notice now could help me later.
The van door slams shut, followed by eerie, too-still silence. Muffled male voices. Chirping birds. An airplane slicing through the sky somewhere overhead.
As I inhale, the dry air, grainy and sour, clings to the back of my throat. The scent of gasoline mixes with the foul sack over my head.
Metal scrapes metal when the door on my other side squeals open. The van rocks as the men all climb in, their heavy footfalls echoing in the space. When they step over me, the hems of their pants brush against my arms.
I may as well be gum on the sidewalk.
Once the doors close, we’re moving. The driver of this operation hits the gas so hard that I roll over as he departs the scene of the crime.
Worse, because no one’s here for me, no one will know about my abduction. The men who guard me don’t return to work until Monday. Finn called to wish me a happy graduation day earlier this morning, so he’ll have no idea I’m in trouble either.
While the van speeds off to who knows where, my thoughts swirl into panic. Dust and sweat mingle with the reek of stale gas and rust, clogging my lungs.
Hot, salty tears sting the rims of my eyes.
This happened to Angelica too. I’m going to die just like her.
I struggle to calm myself. If I can regulate my breathing, maybe I can regulate my mind too. I need to think. These men might be with the Port Kings, the brewing threat Finn recently warned me about. What if they know about the hard drive?
If so, they’ll never find it. I’m not telling them anything, and I’ve already mailed the drive to my new apartment in Austin.
Fuck them.
I strain against my bonds, using all the strength in my voice to scream through the fabric obstructing my mouth, even if that means my tongue touches—
Through the burlap, the unmistakable ice-cold barrel of a gun presses to my forehead. My whole body stills.
I’m just a kid walking home with my best friend, Angelica.
Red hair close in shade to mine. Eyes an even brighter green and so much more beautiful. Whenever we’re bored in class, I count the freckles on her face.
We laugh as tires screech. At the curb ahead, a sleek black van skids to a stop.
Big, burly, monstrous men pop out and stalk straight toward us.
“Ange?” My voice rises unsteadily, alarm flooding my mind. I spin toward her, but I’m too late.
One of the men who followed us home from school holds Angelica. The other presses a gun to my head.
I lunge, screaming. In response, he pistol-whips me across the face so violently, I fall into the grass at the edge of the sidewalk.
With a stinging, bloody face and overwhelming dread in the pit of my stomach, I clamber to my feet and race after them. But they don’t stop. Instead, they drag my best friend to the van, toss her inside, and speed off.
Her wide, terrified eyes, glistening with tears, will haunt me for months. Years.
Tears rage down my cheeks. Because this isn’t just a nightmare. This is the nightmare I’ve been having for the past decade.
Only later did I discover that the men who seized Ange had wanted me, not her. They’d hoped to gain leverage over my father. Angelica was just cannon fodder.
A devastating, evil error.
The men who snatched me today most likely know exactly who I am. And this time, I’m the one who will die.
My mind shuts down completely. Everything I learned from my degree flies out the window. I’m a trapped animal, threatened by a predator and reacting solely on survival instinct rather than logic.
My worst fears are coming true.
These men will do awful things to me.
I struggle to breathe in air, and my muscles tremble so much that they rattle my teeth.
This isn’t just a panic attack. This is a full-blown dissociative episode, an all-consuming flashback to the worst trauma of my life. I’ve read about these. Studied them for project reports.
Even as I recognize the signs, I’m powerless to stop the physical reality.
“Hey.” The voice of the handsome monster-man wavers, unsure. “Stop that.”
The gun disappears, and dim light from tinted windows momentarily blinds me.
I’m once again staring at my kidnapper. He holds my gaze, unblinking, while the edges of his head start to blur.
I shake enough to vibrate the entire van. As if the bad shocks needed any help.
“Listen up. I need you to concentrate on your breathing. Right now. Or you’ll pass out or worse, and you’re no good to me dead.”
Yeah, sure, let me get right on making my abduction easier for you. You’re not the one who—
“Trinity.”
My name slices through the mind fog. I blink a few times, the hazy margins of my vision sharpening on that stupidly handsome face. Hazel eyes peer into mine, their golden honey color suffusing my chest with odd warmth.
“Take a slow, deep breath.” The man delivers his orders in a surprisingly gentle fashion. “Inhale through your nose for four counts.”
My body obeys, and cool, air-conditioned oxygen inflates my lungs.
Strong hands grip my shoulders, steadying my quaking limbs. “Hold for seven. Then exhale for eight.”
We repeat the process until my chest stops heaving and my tremors cease.
I train my eyes on his face the entire time. He never smiles, simply maintains that stoic, unreadable expression while mostly speaking in a commanding voice.
But his steady hazel gaze soothes my anxious mind.
As the current calms, my mind fixates on other things. The heavy black jacket on his shoulders—he must have swapped out the blazer for it once we started moving—and the navy Henley stretched over his broad chest.
The press of his strong fingers on my shoulders, his skin brushing the flesh that my tank top leaves bare as it rides up. I’m now regretting the outfit I wore to avoid overheating beneath my graduation gown. Somehow, he’s managed to mesmerize me with those full lips and that velvety baritone.
The man who snatched me—and possibly plans to murder me—just guided me through a panic attack.
I’m not naive. I realize he’s not helping me breathe out of kindness. But when my lungs settle and it no longer feels like my chest will crush my heart, I can’t deny the strange flicker of warmth in my stomach.
He flits his eyes over me once, twice, confirming that I’m settled. He nods, leaves the burlap hood off, and returns to the front of the van with his two fellow criminals.
As I watch his retreating back, the warmth dissipates and curls into shame before squeezing my heart like a vine.
Beneath the realization that my kidnapper knows more about stopping panic attacks than a psychology major lies the cold fear that, if I can’t control my emotions, I might lose my rational mind for good.
Without that, I have no way to fight back.
Or to escape the monster who cut through my terror with ease.