Chapter 28
Taken
Maliyah
The eerie calm when he said my name and told me it was time we talked made my skin crawl.
My hand was already moving toward my purse, fingers searching for the grip of my gun or the pepper spray.
Anything. But Bryce was fast—he'd always been faster than me when it mattered.
And he was so close to me right now, that his speed mattered.
It took him less than two strides to close the short distance I’d put between us when I’d stepped back.
His hand clamped around my wrist just when I got my hand on the handle of my weapon.
But he squeezed so hard that I reflexively opened my hand and dropped the gun back into the depths of my bag.
His free hand wrapped around the front of my throat.
When he applied pressure along my trachea I felt the urge to cough.
He was showing me that he held the power in this moment.
His cheek scraped against mine, each bristle of stubble catching and lifting individual strands of my hair.
The sound—like sandpaper—filled my ear as he pressed closer, his nose tracing my cheek and face.
My stomach turned, as I heard his deep inhale.
When his lips brushed the shell of my ear, I felt the wet heat of his exhale dampen my skin.
"Now, now," he said softly. "Let's not do anything stupid. I just want to talk."
I swallowed back the acidic burn climbing my throat.
"Let. Go. Of. Me." Each word came out clipped but steady, belying the violent tremor I felt inside as my stomach clenched and twisted.
My free hand curled into a fist at my side, nails digging half-moons into my palm.
"You're violating the restraining order. The police will—"
"The police aren't here, Maliyah." His grip on my wrist tightened even more, pulling my hand from my purse as he twisted just slightly, causing me to cry out.
"And by the time they arrive, we'll be long gone.
" Still whispering, he pulled back a bit.
"You and me, Maliyah. Just like old times. Like it should always have been."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
The smile in his voice never wavered. "Yes, yes you are, my love."
Fuck this. I drove my knee up hard, aiming for his groin. He twisted at the last second and my knee connected with his thigh instead. Not enough. But it gave me space—half a second where his grip loosened.
I yanked my wrist free and ran. Not toward the front stairs—he was blocking the way. Instead, I ran deeper into the hallway, down past apartment 3C, toward the rear stairwell. I was screaming the whole way there, banging on the door as I passed. "Help! Someone help me! Call 911!"
My neighbor's TV was still playing through the door.
Please let her hear me. Please! I reached for the stairwell door, but suddenly I felt Bryce's hand in my hair.
For a suspended moment, I was airborne, my arms flailing uselessly, before he drove me down.
My back crashed against the hallway floor, the impact knocking the air from my lungs in a single violent rush.
My purse dropped off to my side. Bryce’s hand covered my mouth as he hovered over me, muffling my screams.
"Shh, shh," he whispered against my ear. "Stop fighting. You're only making this harder on yourself."
I bit down on his palm as hard as I could, tasting blood.
He cursed and his grip loosened enough for me to twist in his arms. My elbow connected with his jaw—a solid hit that snapped his head back. He staggered, and I flipped over on the floor, scrambling away on my hands and knees.
My purse. I needed my purse. It was right there, a few feet away, my gun visible through the open top.
Bryce's foot came down on my ankle, pinning it. Pain shot up my leg and I screamed again, hoping someone—anyone—would hear.
Reed’s voice echoed in my head, "Never fight in silence if you can help it." So, I screamed. Louder than I had ever screamed before.
"Enough." His voice had changed, losing that pleasant veneer.
This was the Bryce I remembered. The one who'd give me nightmares until I could make myself forget.
The one who ultimately put me in the hospital.
"You're coming with me whether you cooperate or not. It’s your choice how much this hurts. "
I twisted, kicking at his knee with my free foot. He grunted but didn't let go. Instead he dropped down, his weight pressing me into the floor, one hand fisting in my hair and pulling my head back.
"I didn't want it to be like this," he said, his breath hot against my face. "I've been patient. I've been trying to show you how good we could be together. The flowers, the coffee, watching out for you—I was being romantic. But you just keep running."
"Because you're insane," I spat. "You've been stalking me. I’m not interested in—"
His fist connected with the side of my face and the world went white with pain.
My vision blurred, ears ringing. I curled into a ball, trying to protect myself.
I heard him get up and felt his hand curl into my hair while he pulled me up to standing with him.
I attempted to make myself into dead-weight but the pain in my head was too much to bear when he pulled on my hair.
Through the haze, I felt him grab my purse, and saw him pull out my phone. My phone was vibrating—someone was calling. Felicity?
"We don’t need any interruptions, do we, sweetheart?"
He dropped my phone and stomped on it, shattering the screen and breaking it.
I saw him pocket my wallet then he bent to pick the phone up off the ground, dragged me along to the back stairwell where he dumped out the contents of my bag onto the floor just inside the door.
My phone clattered across the ground. My gun—I saw it and tried to lunge for it, even with him holding onto me. I didn’t care. I needed that gun.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, sweetheart. You won't be needing that," he said as he slammed my head into the doorjamb.
The pain that broke through my haze had me screaming out again—this time the scream was ripped from me in a way I’d never felt my voice respond. I felt myself almost throw up it was so blinding. Everything was spinning as he walked me back toward the front stairs, passing my apartment.
He reached down and grabbed my duffel bag that I’d dropped when I first noticed him.
He slung it cross-body over his shoulder, saying, "We’ll bring this with us.
You’ll need some clothes for a while where we’re going.
I’m so glad you packed in preparation for our trip.
" He kissed the side of my head, suddenly, he was lifting me, throwing me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
I wanted to fight, begged my voice to scream out, but my head was pounding and my body wasn't responding the way it should.
With my head hanging upside down, I felt the blood rush in my ears and I think I blacked out for a moment.
When I opened my eyes, he was leaning me against the side of a dark sedan, the trunk already open.
"No," I managed to say, the word slurred. Tears streaming down my face. "No, please—"
"Shh. This will be easier if you just relax."
He dumped me into the trunk like a piece of luggage.
Threw my duffel bag in after me. The trunk slammed shut, plunging me into darkness.
I tried to lift myself up on my elbows but my head swam.
I searched the bag, hoping to find something, anything I could use as a weapon.
My fingers closed around something soft.
Zoe's elephant. The one from Harbor House Road with the tracker inside.
The car started moving. I clutched the elephant to my chest, my only connection to my kids, to safety, to the life I'd been trying to protect. The tracker. Felicity had the app. So did Caden. I’d made sure of it after Carmen gave us the stuffed animals—one for each kid, both with trackers.
Lucas had the dinosaur. Zoe had the elephant.
I’d grabbed both stuffed animals for them when I’d been packing. I couldn’t find the dinosaur as I felt around for it. Doesn’t matter. I have the elephant. Small—less than a foot high, this little toy might be the only way anyone could find me.
If Felicity realized I was missing. If she thought to check the app. If the tracker was even working this far from the city.
So many ifs. Too many.
The car turned, accelerated. I could feel us getting on the highway from the smooth speed, the lack of stops. He was taking me somewhere. Somewhere he thought no one would find us. I had to stay conscious. Had to stay alert. Had to find a way out.
But the darkness and the motion and the pounding in my head were pulling me under. I fought it, biting my lip until I tasted blood, digging my nails into my palms.
Stay awake. Stay alive. Lucas and Zoe needed me to stay alive.
I remembered hearing somewhere that you could get out of trunks these days with a latch or something. I reached toward the back of the trunk, feeling for a release latch, my fingers brushing against the plastic tab, but the energy it took was too much for me and I lost the grip.
Reed. I thought of him, remembering how I'd called him. He'd gotten my message by now, hadn't he? He'd know something was wrong. He'd come looking.
Unless he didn't care anymore. Unless he'd deleted the voicemail without listening. Unless—
No. I couldn't think like that.
The darkness pulled me under. I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. It was too much. I tried. Thought of my kids, of my sister, of Reed. Nothing could keep me lucid though. And slowly I gave up the fight. It was too much energy to waste. I knew I’d have a chance again, and I needed to conserve.
Time became meaningless in the trunk. Minutes or hours—I couldn't tell. I drifted in and out, darkness pulling me under again and again. Eventually, the car slowed, then stopped. I heard the car door open and close.