Chapter Three
Elena
A surge of pain in my head wakes me up.
And the first thought that forms is that I should be crying.
I’m not sure why. Maybe from the pain, or the confusion that leaves me disoriented for a moment. There’s a dull, brutal throb pulsing behind my eyes, and it spreads through my skull with every beat of my heart.
I groan softly and try to move, but the second I lift my head, a wave of nausea crashes through me so violently I almost choke on it.
What the hell?
I force my eyes open anyway.
Darkness blurs around me at first. Shapes swim in and out of focus until the room slowly sharpens.
Slowly, I cock my head to the side, scanning my surroundings: plain concrete walls with only one small window close to the roof, and an overly bright light bulb hanging high in the center of the ceiling.
“Christ…” I murmur.
The overwhelming urge to cry hits me again, but I refuse to let the tears fall.
The air smells damp and stale, layered with mildew and a metallic stench that makes my stomach churn. I don’t even want to guess what that odor is.
Nothing about this place screams five-star resort.
I’m lying on a thin mattress shoved into the corner of the room. The fabric beneath me is rough, stained, and smells old enough to make my skin crawl.
My sweater is twisted halfway off one shoulder, and cold bites instantly at my bare legs.
Fear jolts through my heart, and I jerk upright too quickly.
Pain explodes through my head.
“Oh, God!”
Hot, burning tears sting at the back of my eyes. I clutch my temples and suck in a shaky breath as dizziness pitches the room sideways.
Then memories hit me in irregular flashes, starting with the phone call with Henry, the suspicious movement on C-17, and finally the masked men in black chasing me, not letting up until I slipped into unconsciousness.
My pulse spikes, racing with adrenaline and apprehension.
No.
The tears push forward, threatening to slip down my cheeks. I whimper, “No, no, no…” and scramble off the mattress, stumbling toward the heavy metal door across the room.
My legs are wobbly and weak, barely cooperating with me, but panic drives me forward.
I grip the handle with all the strength I have left, and my breath catches in my throat when the rusty knob doesn’t move.
It’s locked.
Locked!
My breathing turns ragged instantly, but I struggle to contain it, to choke down my fear and prioritize being rational in this moment.
It’s a far stretch, but hope is the only thing I can hold onto right now. Maybe there’s someone out there who has the answers. Someone who could find kindness in his or her heart to help me get out of here.
“Hello?” My voice comes out hoarse and dry. “Hey! Somebody, please! I need help!”
The bulb behind me zaps, momentarily flashing off, then on again.
But no one answers.
Terror creeps in, making me more irrational, and I shove the door harder. “Help! Get me out of here!”
The door rattles loudly before silence settles over everything again.
My phone! The tablet!
There has to be a way to reach someone outside here.
I spin around frantically, dragging my dirty sneakers forward. I search the mattress, the concrete floor, the corners of the room. Everywhere.
But they’re gone.
Of course they’re gone.
My chest tightens so painfully it feels impossible to breathe properly. I press my trembling hands against my mouth, forcing myself not to completely lose it.
Think, Elena, think.
But my thoughts won’t stay steady long enough. My head pounds harder with every passing second, and dizziness drags at me again.
I stagger backward until my knees hit the mattress and the room tilts violently.
Cold sweat breaks out across my skin as nausea rolls through me again, much stronger this time. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight it, but exhaustion crushes down harder.
I can barely keep my eyes open.
The concrete wall behind me feels freezing through my sweater as I slowly sink back onto the mattress.
Somewhere beyond the locked door, footsteps echo faintly. Then there’s silence again, crushing the hope I dared to have.
Henry’s words float back, reverberating at the back of my mind: expect the unexpected.
And the tears I’ve been holding in begin to pour out without control.
But it wasn’t my fault.
Nothing could have prepared me for this. Nothing could have prepared me for the devastating reality that I might never see my parents again.
As much as I want to stay upset at Henry, the thought stabs me straight in the chest that I’ll never get the chance to tell him how much I value our friendship. My life might just be over.
And for the first time since waking up, the terrifying truth sinks fully into my chest: I’ve been kidnapped.
Snatched away without permission from the world I’ve always known, and compelled to survive in this shithole of darkness.
And nobody knows where I am.
Faint footsteps resound again beyond the locked door, but unlike before, they don’t grow quieter.
They get closer, growing louder until keys jangle on the other side of the door.
I sink deeper into the mattress and shut my eyes as the rusty door opens, creaking like something out of a horror movie.
I hear shoes against the concrete floor, drawing closer and closer to the mattress. My eyes aren’t open, but I feel the commanding presence suffocating the room, pressing against every corner, making me feel smaller by the second.
With my heart beating in my throat, I hold my breath, aware of how dangerously close the stranger stands to me. I can feel his body heat slowly radiating into the air around me. It sucks out the cold, though temporarily, and leaves a warmth I should find uncomfortable, but lean into, anyway.
There’s a small shift and rustle of clothes, and then two fingers press against the base of my neck, undoubtedly checking for a pulse.
From the rough texture of the stranger’s skin, my best guess is that the person is a man.
I don’t move, barely even breathe. The stranger doesn’t move, either. I want him to, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he spreads more fingers around my neck, gently brushes them against my collarbone…
His fingers are warm against my fevered skin, and it sends a strange, hot shiver through me.
No, Lee.
I’m locked up in the middle of nowhere, with no idea if I’ll make it out of this alive. Naturally, I need comfort or reassurance, and any touch could be misinterpreted as that. His touch means nothing. It’s the wrong time to feel something like this, and certainly the wrong man.
“I know you’re awake,” he says with a deep, rich baritone that’s impossible to ignore.
I sit up too fast. Big mistake. My vision blurs and my head spins for a few seconds before everything becomes clear again.
Then I tilt my head up and all the air gets sucked out of my lungs, like I’ve been gut-punched.
It’s him.
The tall man who watched me from the upper deck of the Mona.
Up close, he’s much taller and somehow more intimidating, with an aura of mystery that makes the hairs on my arms rise, along with a darker feeling I can’t quite place yet.
The very definition of perfect is what this monster is. He’s the exact type of man I’ve seen women willingly sell their dignity for.
He has it all. Broad shoulders and visible biceps beneath a luxuriously fitted dark navy suit. Steel gray eyes that stare straight into the soul, searching for something to destroy. Pink, firm lips that are drawn in a thin line, like he spends all day thinking.
There’s no sign of rings on his fingers, flashy watches on his wrist, or even a glimpse of ink on what I can see of his skin.
Outwardly, he’s clean, like a simple businessman.
But I know he’s the man who heartlessly watched as his men chased me down the dock and dragged me to him like a lamb to the slaughter.
I blink when his lips move.
“You’re burning up,” he says, calm and controlled, his eyes and voice betraying nothing. “Could be from the shock.”
I raise a brow, wondering how this man is able to keep a straight face as he gives a diagnosis to a girl whose life he’s ruined with just a nod of his head.
“You kidnapped me.”
I hope he hears the strain in my voice, the unspoken questions, the silent plea to confirm that none of this is what I think it is.
But the man slides a hand into the pocket of his navy pants as he watches me with disinterest, like this is just another meeting he can’t wait to be done with.
He gives a curt nod. “I did.”
Two simple words spoken with so much certainty that there’s nothing I can do about it. The audacity!
“You kidnapped me,” I repeat, rolling the words over my tongue, like that will make them sound better. “How many days have I been here?”
“We brought you in last night. It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”
“You mean you kidnapped me last night.”
He shrugs with so much nonchalance it makes me want to gag. “Same thing,” he says, then raises a brow. “Any more questions?”
I swallow down a sarcastic remark and sort through my mind for something else to say.
“What’s your name?”
That throws him off guard. He tries to mask it, but I see the slight shift in his eyes.
“My name. That’s your question.”
“I should know the name of my abductor.” I add a steely edge to my voice, hoping to evoke a reaction from him.
“No,” he says, his voice clipped. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”
“I’m sorry, but…I don’t…I don’t understand.”
“You’re not supposed to.” He cocks his head. “Isn’t that the way this works?”
“Maybe…yes?” My voice breaks. I try hard to keep the tears locked in. “But don’t you get it? This…this is wrong. I shouldn’t be here in this filthy place. This is all just one big misunderstanding. I don’t even know you. I don’t know why I’m here.”
“You saw something you shouldn’t have.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out sounding like a strangled cough. “The docks? Seagulls? A line of yachts in a quiet night? Are those the things you’re referring to? If not, I saw nothing. Your secret is safe with me.”
His eyes grow hard and his gaze narrows. “Tell me, who sent you?”
I nearly choke on my words. “Who sent me? Who sent me to do what?”