Chapter 27 Almost Taken
After I moved from my River North apartment to the house in Park Ridge, my whole routine changed. In the city I had taken Ubers everywhere. Work had been ten minutes away, close enough that I never bothered with a car. But Park Ridge was different. Farther from everything.
So I bought a car.
My commute became twenty five minutes each way, sometimes forty with traffic. An extra hour of my day, but I did not mind it. The new house made it worth it.
The office had its own parking garage, a concrete structure attached to the building.
It was open on the sides, with metal railings instead of walls, so you could see the street from every level.
The entrance had a barrier gate with automatic plate recognition.
Only registered cars could enter. Each floor had assigned spaces. Mine was on the third level.
On Wednesday, I left work an hour later than usual. A meeting ran longer than planned.
The moment I stepped onto the third floor of the parking garage, something in my stomach tightened. A quiet warning, a gut instinct, the kind that rose from nowhere and everywhere at once.
I slowed and scanned the level.
Nothing looked out of place. No one nearby. Just rows of parked cars and the distant hum of traffic drifting up from the street below.
But the feeling didn’t fade.
I quickened my pace.
When I reached my car, I pulled my keys from my bag and unlocked the door. The lock clicked open just as the sharp screech of tires sliced through the garage.
I turned.
A silver sedan shot into the lane behind me and slammed to a stop, blocking my car in.
The driver’s door flew open and a man in a mask jumped out.
He moved fast.
Before I could react, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and twisted me, slamming my face into the side of my car. Stars burst behind my eyes and pain exploded across my cheek.
I staggered, dizzy, and he took advantage immediately, dragging me toward the sedan. My shoes scraped uselessly against the concrete as he pulled.
Adrenaline surged through me.
I fought.
I twisted, kicked, clawed at his arms, anything I could reach. My eyes watered so badly I could barely see, my face throbbing, but I didn’t stop moving. I tried the holds Liam had taught me, wrist breaks, leverage tricks. They slowed him for a moment, but he was bigger. Stronger.
He wrenched open the back door of his car and shoved me toward it.
I grabbed the doorframe with both hands and locked my arms, bracing my feet against the ground. My palms burned against the metal as I refused to let go.
I knew what happened if someone got you into a second location. Once you were taken, the chances of getting out dropped to almost nothing.
He swore and struck me, trying to break my grip. My fingers slipped.
I let go before he could pry them loose and twisted sideways, shoving hard against his arm as I tried to bolt.
For a second I broke free.
I stumbled a step away from the car.
Then his hand caught the back of my jacket and yanked me backward. His arm crushed around my waist and dragged me toward the open door again.
My breath came in sharp, panicked bursts as I fought with everything I had, twisting, kicking, clawing, anything to keep from being forced inside.
The struggle felt endless, though it could not have been more than a few minutes. The man grew more frustrated, more aggressive, trying to overpower me completely.
Then a voice cut through the chaos.
“HEY! HEY! STOP! GET AWAY FROM HER!”
My attacker jerked, startled, his grip loosening for the first time. Before he could recover, someone grabbed him from behind and yanked him away from me.
I stumbled forward, nearly falling, suddenly free.
A ragged gasp tore from my lungs as air rushed back into them. My vision blurred with tears and adrenaline as I spun around, desperate to find an escape, any direction that wasn’t toward him.
I didn’t think.
I just ran.
I sprinted toward the elevators, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. My lungs burned. My face throbbed. Every instinct screamed to get away, get away, get away.
Someone caught me by the arms.
I screamed and fought, twisting, kicking, clawing, my voice raw with panic. I could not see who it was. I could not hear anything over the ringing in my ears and the sound of my own breathing.
“It is okay. It is okay. You are safe.”
The words finally broke through.
I froze, chest heaving.
The man holding me loosened his grip and stepped back, lifting his hands slowly as if dealing with a frightened animal.
I blinked up at him.
He wore a security badge.
“You’re safe,” he repeated, softer this time.
The adrenaline drained out of me so fast my knees buckled. He crouched with me as I sank to the ground, sobbing now, my body shaking uncontrollably.
He stayed with me, speaking quietly, grounding me with calm instructions.
Breathe.
Stay awake.
You are okay.
Help is coming.