30. Eli
Eli
The hood stinks. Not fresh sweat, but old sweat.
The kind that is soaked so deeply into the fabric that no amount of washing will ever get rid of it. Every breath drags the smell into my lungs until it coats the back of my throat. I fight the urge to gag, fighting even harder not to panic.
The SUV crashes over another pothole, and pain tears through my shoulder so violently that a cry escapes before I can stop it. I landed badly when they threw me into the vehicle. I remember crying out then, too. One of them had told me to shut up. Nobody cared then, and nobody cares now.
Another bump.
Another jolt sends fresh pain ripping through me.
My wrists are bound behind my back, the plastic ties pulled so tight they have long since stopped feeling like restraints and started feeling like knives.
Every movement drags them deeper into my skin until they burn.
I shift instinctively, searching for a position that hurts less, but there is no legs-to-arms space that allows it.
Not being able to see is the worst part.
The darkness inside the hood feels alive, pressing against my face, stealing every point of reference. It feels like the world has shrunk to the size of my own breath.
I don’t know where they’re taking us or how long we’ve been driving. Five minutes. An hour. It could be either.
I have no fucking idea.
The engine growls beneath us as gravel spits against the underside of the SUV. We swing around another corner, throwing me sideways until my shoulder crashes against the door. I grit my teeth, swallowing another cry as I listen for the only thing that matters.
Finn.
For one terrifying second, I hear nothing.
Then comes the faint scrape of fabric across the floor, followed by a shaky breath.
Relief floods through me so hard it almost hurts.
He’s still here.
Please, stay with me. Don’t leave me.
My thoughts spiral before I can stop them. What if there isn’t a chance to run? What if this is it? The hood still reeks of old sweat. Maybe it’s mine now. Maybe it belongs to every terrified person who’s worn it before me. Either way, I can’t escape it.
Every time the SUV turns, Finn’s shoulder bumps mine. Each small movement sends another wave of relief crashing through me. I want to reach for him, squeeze his hand, tell him everything is going to be okay. But my hands are trapped behind my back, and worse, I don’t know if that’s true.
Another pothole sends the SUV bouncing. Finn gasps.
Without thinking, I shift closer. Pain explodes through my shoulder, but I ignore it.
“I’m here,” I whisper, my voice cracking. I swallow hard before trying again. “I’m here, Finn.” The words shake out of me. I need him to hear them as much as he needs to believe them.
For a long moment, there is nothing except the drone of the engine, tires grinding over gravel, and the muffled conversation of the men sitting above us.
Then I hear him.
“Eli?”
Relief nearly breaks me.
“Yeah,” I answer quickly. “I’m here.”
His breathing catches. “I can’t see.”
The words are small and disoriented, like he’s still trying to wake up.
“They put hoods on us,” I tell him quietly.
“Oh…”
A long pause follows before he murmurs, “My head hurts.”
My stomach twists as the memory of the gun striking him flashes through my mind. The sickening crack. The way he had fallen.
“I know.”
Silence settles between us again before he whispers, so quietly I almost miss it, “I’m scared.”
The confession punches straight through my chest. If it wasn’t for me, he’d be home with Deck, probably arguing over tea and making everyone laugh. Instead, he’s lying handcuffed on the floor of a moving SUV because Adrian wants me. The guilt tastes bitter.
“So am I,” I admit.
A weak laugh escapes him.
“Good.”
I frown. “What?”
“If you weren’t scared…” His words slur together. “…I’d be worried.”
Despite everything, a breath of laughter slips out of me. One of the men immediately tells us both to shut up. Neither of us answers.
Finn’s shoulder brushes mine again.
“Eli?”
“Yeah?”
“If Deck kills somebody,” his intake of breath is shaky, “don’t let him bury the body in the garden.”
A real laugh escapes me then. Broken. Brief. Gone almost as quickly as it came.
Finn hums softly.
“Good.”
“What?”
“You laughed.”
My throat tightens. The hood still stinks. The restraints still bite into my wrists, and fear still coils around my ribs so tightly I can barely breathe. But somehow, Finn makes me feel a little less alone.
After that, he goes quiet again. Maybe he’s asleep. Maybe he’s slipped somewhere inside the pain. I don’t know.
The SUV keeps moving while my mind refuses to stop.
What if we never get home? What if CJ never gets to tell me he loves me again? What if I’ve already heard those words for the last time?
The thoughts hit like a blow to the stomach. Pain shoots through me as I realize that home feels impossibly far away, like a place I imagined instead of lived.
My chest aches as I picture him running after the SUV, gun in his hand, screaming my name. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he realized he wasn’t going to reach me.
Then I think of Deck, running to where Finn fell. I saw the terror on his face, too. Right now he’ll be tearing Campbell River apart looking for us. Looking for him.
The thought should comfort me.
Instead, another slips in.
What if they don’t find us?
What if Adrian wins?
The terror I’d buried claws its way back to life, sharp enough that I can almost feel it digging beneath my ribs. A sob rises into my throat, but I force it back down.
For Finn.
For me.
* * *
The SUV suddenly begins to slow.
Every muscle in my body locks.
Beside me, Finn slumps against my shoulder before letting out a small whimper.
“Eli…”
“I’m here,” I answer immediately.
The tires crunch over loose gravel, slower now, until finally the vehicle rolls to a stop.
Finn starts crying quietly.
The sound shatters me.
My own tears follow before I can stop them. Every instinct screams at me to run, to hide, to disappear, but there is nowhere to go.
And I won’t leave Finn.
The engine dies. A door flies open and rough hands grab us.
Pain explodes through my shoulder as I’m dragged from the SUV.
Beside me, Finn cries out. Loose gravel tears beneath us as we’re hauled forward.
I can’t catch myself before my shoulder slams into something solid.
A wall. A doorway. I don’t know. The hood never comes off, leaving the world black as the air changes around us. Warmer. Still. Stale.
We’re inside.
A door opens.
Then we’re forced downstairs.
Someone shoves me without warning. I miss the final steps completely and crash onto concrete. The impact drives every breath from my lungs, and a heartbeat later, Finn lands half across me with a groan.
For several long seconds, neither of us moves. We simply lie there, trying to breathe, while warm blood trickles beneath the restraints cutting into my wrists.
Then a heavy door slams shut above us.
And I know we’re alone.
* * *
We are swallowed by complete, suffocating darkness.
The smell hits me first. Dust. Old oil. Damp concrete. Dirt. The air is thick with neglect, the kind of smell that settles into places nobody visits anymore. Places nobody comes looking for. Every breath coats the back of my throat until I can almost taste it.
Beside me, Finn’s breathing rasps through the darkness. It’s too fast. Too shallow.
“Finn,” I whisper, my voice barely working. “Slow down.”
He doesn’t answer.
“You’re hyperventilating.”
I shift closer, hooking my leg around his. It’s the only comfort I can offer with my hands still tied behind my back.
“Breathe with me. In, and out. That’s it. Again. In, and out.”
Slowly, painfully slowly, his breathing begins to match mine.
“Eli…” His voice sounds distant. Wrong. “I can’t… my head… pressure…”
Fear punches straight through me. The gun. The stairs. Maybe both.
“Finn, you need to stay awake.” I nudge him gently with my knee. “Keep talking to me.”
“Okay.”
The word is quiet, heavy with exhaustion.
Too heavy.
“Finn?”
Nothing.
My pulse spikes.
I shift until my shoulder presses against him, straining for any sign he’s still with me. Finally, warm breath brushes my arm.
Weak.
Shallow.
But there.
Relief almost brings tears to my eyes. My chest loosens just enough to suck in air. If he’s still here, I can hold on a little longer.
* * *
When the door finally opens, heavy boots echo down concrete steps. I jerk instinctively, my heart slamming against my ribs as rough hands grab the hood and rip it from my head.
Light burns my eyes. I blink rapidly until the room comes into focus.
Concrete walls. Concrete floor. Damp stains spreading through the corners beneath a single naked light bulb.
A prison.
My eyes immediately find Finn.
He’s slumped beside me, unconscious.
Relief crashes through me so hard I almost choke.
He’s alive.
Then one of the men grabs him.
“No!”
Finn’s body scrapes across the concrete as if he weighs nothing.
“Leave him alone!”
I scramble after him on my knees. My bound hands throw me off balance, and I hit the floor before forcing myself up again. The man drags Finn across the room and dumps him against the wall. His head rolls limply to one side, dried blood streaking the skin behind his ear.
My stomach drops.
“Finn!”
Nothing.
The man grabs his chin and slaps him once.
Then again.
Still nothing.
Before I can move, he slams Finn’s head back against the wall.
The crack echoes around the room.
“Leave him alone!”
The scream tears out of me before I even know I’m making it.
The man turns slowly, smiling like he’s enjoying every second of it.
“You’re one lucky little shit,” he says. “We’ve been told we can’t touch you.”
His gaze drifts over me, slow enough to make my skin crawl.
“If we were allowed…” A cruel smile spreads across his face. “You wouldn’t be looking nearly this pretty.”
Every instinct I have screams at me to launch myself at him, to claw at his face until he can’t smile anymore. Instead, I kneel there, helpless, forced to watch.
He starts toward the stairs before stopping. He turns back, walks straight to me, and drives his fist into my stomach.
Pain explodes through me.
“That’s for the knee to my gut, you little bitch.”
He spits at my feet before disappearing upstairs.
The door slams shut.
I fold over immediately, fighting for air before my stomach lurches and I vomit onto the concrete. Every part of me hurts, but none of it matters.
Finn.
I force myself onto my knees and crawl across the floor one painful movement at a time until I reach him.
“Finn.”
My voice barely exists anymore.
I lower my face beside his, waiting.
One second.
Two.
Then warm air brushes my cheek.
A breath.
A sob escapes before I can stop it.
I rest my forehead against his shoulder, letting myself stay there for one precious moment. He’s alive. Bruised. Unconscious. But alive.
The sound of footsteps instantly tears me away.
* * *
The door opens again.
The same man walks back in carrying another black hood.
“No.”
The word leaves me automatically.
He grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet. I fight him, twisting against his grip, but it makes no difference. He forces me onto my knees before dragging the hood over my head again. Darkness crashes down as he tightens the cord beneath my chin.
“Let’s go.”
My pulse pounds so hard it hurts.
“Where?”
He laughs.
“You’ve got a visitor.”
Ice floods my veins.
No.
No.
No.
He drags me toward the stairs.
“Finn!”
I wrench against his grip with everything I have.
“FINN!”
There is no answer.
The stairs creak beneath our feet before the heavy door slams shut behind us, sealing Finn on the other side.
For the first time since we were taken…
I am completely alone.
I am forced onto my knees. Carpet burns beneath them through my jeans as I struggle to steady my breathing. My shoulder throbs. My wrists ache. My heart pounds so violently I can feel it in my throat.
Someone walks toward me.
Not the heavy boots from downstairs; these footsteps are quieter.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Controlled.
My blood turns to ice.
No…
I know those footsteps.
I have heard them walking toward me in hallways… outside locked doors… across polished timber floors before everything changed.
My breathing stops.
Fingers hook beneath the hood and tear it away.
Adrian.
“Hello, Elijah.”
His smile is calm, almost warm, and somehow that makes it so much worse. He hooks two fingers beneath my chin, forcing my face up until I have no choice but to look at him.
“You can stop being afraid now, Elijah.”
His thumb brushes lightly across my jaw, the touch familiar and unwanted. My stomach churns at the touch.
“I’m here now.”